


Benefits

by sakabelle



Series: throw your love around [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakabelle/pseuds/sakabelle
Summary: It begins at Jay and Dan's wedding. It's supposed to be a laugh, really. Niall and Harry showing up there together because they've got no one else to bring.It continues because Niall's always got to have some sort of fling going on whenever they're home from the tour. It's just that Harry never expected that he'd be one of those flings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Jess who has been reading this since I started writing it in 2014, if you can believe that. It's finished now, just needs editing. Updates will be on Sundays. This is the prequel to shiny happy people - but that is not required reading before reading this.
> 
> Come talk to be on tumblr here! [Sakabelle](http://sakabelle.tumblr.com)

It begins at Jay and Dan's wedding.

A limo pulls up to the luscious golf course and Niall practically falls out of it as soon as it stops. He's laughing, looking back at Harry with a grin.

“What?” Harry asks, looking generally confused as Niall continues to walk towards the church. “All I said was that you looked dashing today.”

Niall snorts. “Dashing?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes even though Harry can't see them – they're covered by his ever-present black Ray-bans.

Harry nods his head, eyeing Niall up and down. “Your suit,” he says simply.

“Ah, yeah?” Niall raises his eyebrows and patting his hands against his chest. “This old thing?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders and just nods. “Looks good on you.”

“Well,” Niall says, making an effort to stand up straighter and tugging on the sides of his jacket. “If you approve I must be doing something right. Didn't even need a stylist to help me!”

Harry just shakes his head, laughing at Niall's obvious pride. “Right,” he chuckles, holding out his arm. “Good thing, since you're my arm candy for the evening.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall laughs again, linking his arm with Harry's as they continue to walk across the grass, past the reception area and towards the double doors of the old church.

The two of them look at each other as they continue to walk. They smile before the two of them break into a fit of giggles because this is utterly ridiculous and hilarious. Two lads both without dates to a wedding deciding to arrive together.

If it was anyone else, Harry would have laughed and said never in a million years. But when Niall floated the idea two nights before...

Well, Harry still laughed. But he found himself agreeing to it.

“You can't be serious,” Louis shouts, cutting into Niall and Harry's giggles. He's walking briskly down the steps of the church, giving them a look from behind his aviators. Niall and Harry glance at each other – snorting a little bit and shutting up so that Louis can say his piece.

Well, as much as they can, anyway. Which isn't a whole lot.

“I thought you were just having a laugh,” he continues once he's in front of the two of them. “But you're actually _here_ at my mother's _wedding,”_ he pauses and stares down Harry before moving on to Niall.

Niall lets out a quick laugh that he isn't able to contain. Harry nudges him in his side.

“ _Together,”_ Louis finishes, as though this is absolutely and positively the worst thing that could have ever happened.

“Right,” Harry shrugs, slinging his arm around Louis. “Because need I remind you that neither of us have a plus one and we're both so lonely.”

“So lonely,” Niall repeats, nodding his head with a smirk plastered on his face. Louis can dish it out, but that doesn't mean he and Harry can't throw it right back. After four years in a band together, they're all pretty good at playing off of each other.

“Uh huh,” Louis spins around and pulls Harry's arm off of him. “Need I remind both of you that it wouldn't exactly have been hard for you to find a date of the female variety for this occasion? Instead of making a big joke out of my mother's wedding?”

Niall has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He really should have made a bet with Harry on how many times Louis would mention that this was his _mother's wedding_ over the course of the day.

“Well?” Louis asks, standing there with his hands on his hips. “What stopped you from inviting Barbara, hmm?” he glares at Niall.

Niall just laughs. He can't hold it in any longer and the very notion of inviting his clingy fling from over the Christmas holiday is laughable. “Because I'm not seeing Barbara anymore,” he shrugs, still giggling a little bit and he offers the tiniest glance over to Harry. “And because I wouldn't have invited her to any formal event. Especially not your mother's wedding.”

Harry snorts. Louis ignores him, because he's focused on Niall right now.

“Of course not,” Louis sighs dramatically. “That would have required you to actually stay with someone for longer than a month.”

“Ooooh,” Harry laughs, looking at Niall.

But Niall just shrugs. Louis isn't wrong, and he doesn't really care. The best part of having a job like the one he does is that he can take his little windows where he's at home, have a quick fling with a pretty girl and then jet off without having to worry about commitment.

“And you,” Louis says, turning his attention away from Niall and towards Harry. “You have loads of female friends, you didn't think to ask one of them?”

“Would have spent the entire time hanging out with Niall anyway. I didn't want to be rude.” Harry smiles easily. He's so much better at reasoning with Louis than Niall is. Niall's dry wit and sarcasm often clashes with Louis's, but Harry just has to smile, say something logical and it shuts Louis right up.

“Right,” Louis sighs. “Well, don't spend the entire ceremony laughing and giggling and whatever else it is that the two of you do. This is the most important day of my mother's life,” he reminds them before turning around and rushing back up the steps.

“One of three,” Niall mutters, grinning at Harry as the two of them follow behind Louis.

Harry just shakes his head, but he can't help but smile at Niall's wit. He definitely made the right choice arriving with his friend rather than some girl who would just be confused and uncomfortable the whole time.

* * *

“FORE!” Niall shouts, before smacking the croquet ball with his club. Of course it doesn't go far, just rolls over to one of the hoops.

Harry rolls his eyes and laughs as he looks over at Liam. Liam just shakes his head and steps up to take his turn.

“Have another pint, Niall,” he says before positioning himself in front of the ball. “It's definitely helping your game.”

Niall just laughs, nodding his head as he takes Liam's advice and chugs down the quarter of a pint that's left in his glass.

“Could do, Liam, could do,” he says, glancing around. There are waiters everywhere, walking around with hors d'ouvres and mixed drinks. There's also a bar that's serving pints – but it's all the way on the other side of the green and Niall's not interested in walking and missing the very exciting game of croquet.

“Oy!” he shouts, snapping his fingers and getting the waiter's attention. Of course the waiter rushes over to him, and Niall promptly takes two of the orange drinks off of his plate.

“Jesus Christ, Niall,” Liam says, looking over at him as Sophia takes her shot. “Pace yourself, mate. I'm not picking you up off the bathroom floor again.”

“Shut up,” Niall snaps, but grins all the same. “One of them's for Harry. My _date,”_ he stresses with a laugh as he passes one of the drinks to Harry.

“Such a gentleman,” Harry giggles. “It's so hard to find good men these days.”

Liam snorts at the notion that Niall is one of the good men.

“Right,” he says, looking at Harry. “Just watch it, or he'll leave you stranded in New York City when there's the very prospect of sleeping with Demi Lovato.”

“Hey,” Niall almost whines, licking the sweet orange drink off of his lips. “No one asked Amy to show up at the MSG show.”

“And yet she still did it,” Liam points out. “Some would call that dedication.”

“Some would call that stalking,” Niall says, ignoring Liam and raising his eyebrows in Harry's direction.

Harry just shrugs, taking a sip of his beverage. Niall's escapades were never much of his concern. Sure he'd never been that way, and yeah Niall probably could do a little better at respecting the girls he chose to date (for however long) but it wasn't really any of his business.

“Wait,” Sophia interjects, walking over to them once her turn is over. “I'm confused. Are you guys actually...”

“No,” Liam says quickly. “They're just idiots. Though they probably should be, because I reckon there's no one else on the planet who would put up with either of them.”

“Hah,” Niall laughs, finishing his drink and wrapping his arms around Harry. “Is that true, do you just put up with me?” he pouts dramatically, purely for Liam's benefit.

“I believe the word is adore,” Harry swoons right back, giving Niall an easy smile and brushing his lips against Niall's cheek. “To say that I put up with you would be to imply that I don't love every waking moment that we're together.”

Liam rolls his eyes and Sophia grins, wrapping her arms around his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Oh Harry,” Niall sighs, keen on putting on a show for them as long as he's being watched. “How could I have possibly gotten so lucky? Not only are you the absolute sweetest, but you're fit as hell,” he continues, slipping his hand slightly into Harry's open shirt.

Before Harry can respond, Louis's shrill voice cuts into their love scene.

“Cut it out, NOW!” they hear him shout from twenty feet away.

Niall pulls away from Harry, doubling over with laughter and shooting Louis a shit-eating-grin. Louis ignores it of course, turning his attention back to Eleanor.

“It's your turn, mate,” Niall says, patting Harry on the back before running over to another one of the roaming waiters and grabbing another drink.

“Right,” Harry says, taking a moment to watch Niall before stepping up to make his play. Before today, he's never actually noticed how adorable he is – his spirits always high and always keen on having a laugh.

* * *

“This is fucking delicious,” Niall marvels as he continues to shove cake into his mouth. “I don't think I've ever eaten anything that tastes like this.”

Liam snorts and bites his lip as he looks at Niall.

Niall gives him the finger of course and continues to chow down on his cake.

“Maybe that's because you've been on a liquid diet all day,” Harry points out, smiling as he uses his fork to slice a bite of cake off of his own piece.

Niall shrugs, licking the remaining icing off of his fork. “Maybe it's because I got a fucking corner piece, Styles. You have barely any icing on yours.”

Harry shrugs. “That's fine.”

“Is not,” Niall shakes his head seriously, as though this is the most important thing that's ever happened. “What's cake without icing? That's like saying what's life without sex? It's there, but it's bland as shite.”

He widens his eyes and looks across the table at Liam and Sophia for validation. After a couple of seconds, they finally nod their heads.

“Yeah,” Liam says with a sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it, he's right.”

“Right,” Niall agrees, turning back to Harry. He takes his fork and slices off a good chunk of icing off the side of his cake. “So try some of that icing.”

He holds out his fork and Harry shakes his head. If it were anyone else he probably would have just knocked their hand away and told them that they were mad.

But it's Niall who's holding out this sweet dessert for him. It's Niall who's urging him to take a bite with his bright blue eyes. And it's Niall who's been fucking calling his bluffs all day.

So he leans down and takes a bite.

He has to admit, it's pretty good. Maybe a little sweet for his tastes, but that makes sense. Niall's always had more of a sweet tooth than he has. But it's still good and it does add something to the cake.

“Aww,” Sophia coos, clapping her hands together. “They've moved on to feeding each other now. Presh.”

Niall just smiles, looking down at his cake and quickly shoving another bite into his mouth.

Harry watches him. Is his face actually red? He thinks it might be – and it might be just on account of the pints and not because of what Sophia said, but Harry can't let go of the opportunity to mess with him just a little bit.

“And now he's eating with the fork again,” Harry says slowly, leaning in closer to Niall. “We're practically kissing.”

Niall doesn't miss a beat. “Just as sweet as I imagined it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he licks more icing off of his fork.

Harry doesn't know what to say after that. He's stuck on Niall's eyes again – bright and big and begging him to continue with the charade. But he can't because all he can think of doing is actually leaning over at kissing Niall.

And Niall just licks his lips innocently – as though he's giving Harry a sign that he actually wants him to do it. That he'd actually take their stupid wedding date joke this far and kiss him just to get a reaction out of Liam and Sophia. Because even at Louis's mothers wedding, he still has to make sure he's the centre of attention.

But just as Harry starts to lean in, Liam interjects. “Oh look,” he says, eyeing Harry. “Louis is just about to start his speech.”

He leans back in his chair and Sophia leans against him. Harry gives Niall one final look.

Niall just smirks, smacking his lips together and then looking up at the podium where Louis is indeed standing.

Harry sighs, looking up there as well. Of course now, the last thing he's thinking about is Louis's kind words about his family. No, he's far more focused on the sugar covered soft lips directly behind him.

* * *

They stumble back into their limousine at the end of the night drunk and full of cake.

“Best fucking wedding ever,” Niall laughs, sliding onto the smooth leather seat as Harry follows behind him.

“You're a fucking tease, you know that?” Harry shakes his head once the door is closed and they're rolling along.

“What?” Niall asks, a couple of laughs slipping out as he stares out the window. It's a good hour long ride back into London, so they've got a while. Maybe he'll crack open the bottle of wine that's just sitting there. He's not quite ready for the evening to end yet.

“You,” Harry says, leaning in closer to Niall. “And your 'he's really fit.'” he imitates Niall's accent as he slips his hand inside his own shirt, mocking how Niall had touched him earlier.

Niall snorts. “Right, and what about you?” he leans his head closer to Harry's and lowers his voice to the deepest register it'll go. “We're practically kissing.”

Harry swallows. He's found himself in this same situation again, with Niall's eyes staring him down and his stupid lovely lips just inches away from his own.

He swallows again, his heart beating quicker in his chest. Niall doesn't move away and every millisecond that ticks by tells Harry that he actually does want this. So he just goes for it – closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Niall's.

Niall kisses him back for a moment, slowly and deliberately. As though he's really trying hard for dramatic effect. Which is sort of silly.

“There's no one else here, Styles,” Niall whispers as he pulls away, their noses still touching. “No jokes.”

“I know,” Harry affirms, still staring down at Niall.

Niall nods his head a few times before leaning inwards and kissing Harry again.

They kiss messily for a few minutes – their lips smacking together with Niall dipping his tongue into Harry's mouth. It's wet – leaving their mouths raw and swollen. But they don't stop. Instead they shuffle in closer to each other, Harry's hand finding its way to Niall's thigh.

They're both drunk and Harry's fairly confident that this is stupid. They're taking this way too far. No one else is even here and they're well on their way to christening the back of this stupid limo. But they do have an hour to kill, so what else are they going to do?

A million other things, Harry's sure. But right now all he wants is to keep kissing the boy who he's somehow spent the entire day flirting with. It was just supposed to be a laugh – it wasn't supposed to end with them actually making out on their way home!

Harry brushes his hand against Niall's crotch and he pulls away, laughing because he's hard already.

“We've literally been snogging for two minutes,” Harry giggles, running his hand up and down Niall's shaft through the thick fabric of his dress pants.

“Shut up,” Niall mutters. “Haven't had a wank in a few days.”

Harry just shakes his head. He doesn't say anything more as he starts kissing Niall again. This time keeping his mouth moving as he touches Niall.

Niall moans into their kiss, bucking his hips upwards because he needs more of that friction. As far as he's concerned, Harry's just teasing him. Touching him lightly and just running his long fingers over his throbbing cock as little as he possibly can.

“Now who's being a tease?” Niall mumbles with his lips still flush against Harry's. He reaches downwards, placing his hand on top of Harry's and pressing it down harder. “Fuck.”

Harry leans his forehead against Niall's, staring at him.

He doesn't think he's ever seen Niall like this before. His eyes aren't bright, but glazed over and half closed. He's obviously turned on.

Actually, horny as fuck is probably more accurate.

“Take those off, then,” Harry whispers into Niall's ear, nipping at it a little bit.

Niall obliges, undoing his belt, kicking off his shoes and socks and shuffling out of his pants and boxers, leaving them in a heap on the floor of the limo.

“Yeah,” Niall moans as Harry wraps his hand around Niall's cock.

If they weren't so fucking drunk they'd probably be laughing at how absurd all of this was. Of course Harry's seen Niall naked before. It was hard not to when they've all lived in each other's pockets for the past four years.

But that doesn't make this any less strange. Niall's leaning back and thrusting into Harry's touch – his mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna come if you keep doing that,” he pants, his chest heaving through his shirt.

“Really?” Harry says, leaning over and kissing Niall's neck. “Better stop then.”

He pulls his hand away from Niall and gives him a bit of a sinister grin.

“Harry,” Niall whines, opening his eyes and turning his head towards his friend. “What the fuck?”

“It's not really fair, is it?” Harry shrugs, looking down at the bulge in his own pants.

“Ah,” Niall nods his head. “Better take those off, then,” he mocks Harry in a shitty English accent.

Harry laughs, but he does as Niall says. Soon enough his own pants and boxers are on the floor.

And apparently, Niall's mouth is on his cock.

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry moans, taking a page out of Niall's book and leaning against the seat as Niall sucks him off. He digs his hands into Niall's perfectly styled blonde hair. God, he really hates that about him – he looks so fucking perfect all the time. How had he never noticed it before? “Where'd you learn to do that?”

Niall pulls away, Harry's cock popping out of his mouth. “Can't exactly answer you with my mouth full of your prick,” he says, looking up at him.

It's quite a sight actually, Niall's smug face looking up at him with his hard dick right in front of it.

“Niall,” Harry whines, pushing his head back down.

Niall scoffs. “I don't think so, I'm not getting anything out of this.”

They lock eyes for a second.

“Let me fuck you then,” Harry says at the exact same time Niall says, “Fuck me.”

They both laugh as Niall shuffles back up into the seat. He kisses Harry again for a few minutes as Harry digs around in his suit jacket for that fucking lube that he knows he has with him. Because if he carries a condom with him everywhere, why not a travel bottle of lube as well?

He's on autopilot as he kisses Niall, coats his fingers in it and sticks them inside his friend.

Niall groans, lifting up his hips and taking all of this in stride. If this is his first time with another boy, it certainly doesn't seem like it. He just moans as Harry works him – not really knowing what he's doing but using Niall's body language as his guide.

“Condom, Styles,” Niall groans, throwing his head back and moaning again.

Hopefully the limo driver has no fucking clue what's going on. Harry's pretty sure that there's soundproof glass and he's really banking on that being true right now.

“Yeah,” Harry says, pulling away from Niall and leaning down to retrieve the package from his pants.

“Came well prepared, I see,” Niall says, pushing two of his fingers inside himself and breathing hard as he watches Harry roll the condom onto his cock.

“Why wouldn't I?” Harry laughs as Niall climbs onto his lap. “Brought a hot date to the wedding.”

“Hmmm,” is all Niall says as he slides Harry's cock inside himself. He leans against Harry, his knees bent onto the seat of the limo. He starts to move up and down slowly, placing Harry's hands onto his sides.

“You've done this before,” Harry grits out as Niall rides him.

“Maybe,” Niall breathes as he continues to move. “A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.”

Harry snorts before his breath catches in his throat as Niall slams down onto him. “Good thing you're not a gentleman.”

Niall laughs, picking up his pace. Harry looks down at Niall hips. His cock is hard, poking out from under his long dress shirt. He moves one of his hands off of Niall's side, wrapping it around the base of his dick and stroking him.

“Fuck Harry,” Niall groans, throwing his head back as he continues to bounce on his lap. “Yeah,” he pants. “Yeah, I may have done this before.”

“Who?” Harry asks, breathing hard as heat starts to collect in his abdomen. It's not going to be long now.

“Louis,” Niall says with a breathless laugh.

Harry gives him a look and Niall bursts out laughing.

“Okay fine, no,” he pants as Harry continues to fuck him – rolling his hips and sliding his cock in and out of Niall in perfect rhythm with the way he's stroking him. “Just a few guys when I've been in Ireland. No one you know.”

“Hmmm,” Harry moans, not really caring. As far as he's concerned, the more experience Niall has, the better, because he's really fucking good at this. He pulls at Niall's cock harder, eliciting a moan from the blonde boy.

“Fuck, Styles,” Niall moans, speeding up his pace. “Gonna come.”

And he does, making a mess on Harry's shirt.

Harry gulps, unsure as to why he finds that hot as fuck. But he does and it's enough to send him over the edge as well. “Niall,” he moans, gripping the boy's sides. “Oh, _Niall.”_

He comes hard, and Niall must feel it because he leans down and kisses Harry's neck before moving off of him and sitting back down on the leather seat.

The limo is a right mess, covered in their clothing and sweat.

After coming down for a couple of moments and catching their breath, the two of them look at each other.

“Best fucking idea you've ever had,” Harry says with a grin.

Niall just laughs, wiping the sweat off of his forehead as he slumps down into the seat with exhaustion. The lights glare through the windows, signalling that they're getting close to London now.


	2. Chapter 2

“Niall. Niall. Niaaaaaaaaaaall...”

Harry's leaning over and whispering in his friend's ear. Niall mumbles a little bit, but rolls over and falls right back asleep.

Harry rolls his eyes. Niall's the first one up whenever they have a show that night – but on his day off he'll gladly sleep the day away.

After their romp in the limo the night before they'd both gotten out at Harry's place. Well – Harry had. Niall had fallen asleep with his head leaning against the window and Harry figured he'd just bring him inside rather than force him to spend another half hour in the backseat of the car.

“I'm making eggs,” Harry tries again, a smirk on his face. If there's one thing that'll wake Niall up, it's food. Especially food that's being prepared specifically for him.

Plus it's nearly noon, so he really should be waking up.

“What kind?” Niall mutters into the pillow, not opening his eyes.

“Benny,” Harry says, leaning over and nuzzling his nose into Niall's mess of hair.

“Hmmm,” Niall contemplates. He keeps his eyes shut for another couple of minutes until finally opening them and sitting up. “Really?”

“Sure,” Harry shrugs, still grinning.

Niall just yawns, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. “How'd I end up in your bed?” he asks, glancing around with a bit of a laugh.

“You passed out in the limo.”

Niall snorts, nodding his head and stretching his arms out before falling back down onto the mess of blankets. He's only wearing boxers and glances around the room. His suit is neatly draped over one of Harry's plush chairs in the corner of the room.

“Quite a night, yeah?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he looks up at Harry.

Harry just nods his head, his eyes wide and his cheekbones high with a smirk.

“Not at my mother's wedding,” Niall laughs, his voice thick with Louis's Doncaster accent.

Harry bursts out laughing and lets himself fall down on top of Niall. He smiles, letting his hands trace the top of Niall's bare chest. He doesn't know how he never realised how absolutely lush Niall is before, but now that the boy is practically naked in his bed he can't not.

Niall sighs, rubbing Harry's bare back.

Harry shimmies upwards, just enough so that his lips can meet Niall's. He doesn't taste great – sort of stale on account of sleeping for six hours and all of the pints the day before of course. But he doesn't really care as he slips his tongue into his mouth.

Niall kisses him back slowly, pulling Harry closer to him.

The is without a doubt the easiest morning after Harry's ever had. It's not awkward. It's just Niall – he's seen him blackout drunk and has had to carry him back into their hotel more than once. He can't imagine they'd ever be in an awkward situation.

“Mmm, Harry,” Niall says softly, pulling away. “You promised me eggs.”

Harry laughs, pulling away from Niall and burying his head in his chest. “Tosser,” he says, standing up and shaking his head as he walks towards the kitchen.

“Poached medium, t'anks Harry!” he calls after him, deliberately putting his accent on because he knows Harry will get a kick out of it.

“You're welcome, Neil,” Harry says, looking back at him with a devilish grin as he runs out of the room.

Niall throws a pillow at the door, but doesn't bother to get out of bed just yet.

* * *

Niall doesn't leave the house for the rest of the day. In fact, he eats his breakfast, has a shower in Harry's bathroom and then declares he's going back down for a kip.

Harry doesn't usually nap – he's never really been into it. So he just chills out of his sofa for the better part of the afternoon surfing Netflix.

Two and a half episodes of _House of Cards_ later, Harry's phone buzzes with a text message.

It's Niall.

_come upstairs_

Harry rolls his eyes and tosses his phone to his side as he turns his attention back to the show.

It buzzes again.

Harry sighs, glancing over at it.

_come on :(_

He almost tosses it back down on the couch because the episode is actually getting really good. If not for the stupid sad face emoji he probably would have too. But Niall is a little shit and he knows exactly how to play on Harry's emotions. It's a good thing he's the cute one in the band. Harry shakes his head. Isn't that supposed to be _his_ role, being the youngest and all?

So he gets up and walks up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Where he finds Niall, casually laying on the bed having a tug.

“Really?” Harry asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah,” Niall replies, purposely trying to sound out of breath. He closes his eyes and continues to touch himself. “Gonna help me out here or what?”

“Think I'd rather just stand here and watch, actually.”

Niall turns his head to glare at Harry. Obviously calling his bluff he continues to stroke himself, bucking his hips upwards a little bit and letting a soft moan escape from his lips.

Fucking Niall. Obviously this is only the first day where he's been in such a situation with him, but he's exactly the same. He knows just what to do to get Harry to do what he wants. It's just that now what he wants is to be in bed with him.

And if the crowding in his boxers is any indication, Harry wants that too. He knew he shouldn't have gotten dressed today.

“Jesus,” Harry says, pulling his t-shirt over his head and pulling his jeans and boxers off before joining Niall in the bed.

“Thought you were fine to just stand there and watch?” Niall teases him with his eyebrow slightly raised. He groans as Harry crawls on top of him and writhes underneath their weight of his body.

Instead of answering Niall, Harry just throw's his lips on top of his. He grinds hard against him, kissing him all the while.

“Harry,” Niall moans, reaching down in between the two of them and readjusting himself so he gets the friction in just the right place. Harry's body is perfect as far as he's concerned – toned and hard and curvy everywhere that it counts. All of the dips and curves that sit evenly with Niall's smaller body.

Niall digs his hands into Harry's back as they move against each other. The bed is creaking, for fuck's sake. It's a good thing they're alone in Harry's house because if they weren't everyone would know what they were up to. If there was a headboard – it'd definitely be slamming against the wall.

Niall arches his back and stop moving against Harry. Harry actually opens his eyes. He's breathing hard and looking at Niall quizzically. What could possibly be causing him to stop? Because he thought it was pretty good.

“What?” Harry starts. He's quickly silenced by Niall, who's looking at him devilishly.

Niall swings his leg over Harry, forcing him over. Harry's on his back now, looking up at Niall.

“Gonna come on you,” Niall says, kneeling over Harry and gripping his cock. “Right on your fucking butterfly.”

Harry snorts. “You're a dirty bastard,” he says. But of course he can't help but watch as Niall pulls at his dick, squeezing it and groaning like he's the only one in the room.

Harry knows this is exactly how he does it when he's by himself anyway. It's not like he hasn't heard him before. He's never exactly subtle about it.

Niall bites his lip and sighs as he comes. He doesn't have great aim either, because it lands in a sloppy mess on Harry's left side.

“Hm,” Niall says after a moment of catching his breath.

“Gonna have to try harder next time,” Harry laughs. Then he bucks his hips upwards. He's still hard – probably even more so now that he's witnessed the beauty of Niall wanking. “Move your head down there.”

Niall gives him a look. “No way. I just did it myself.”

“Yeah,” Harry groans purposely, thrusting his hips up again. “Didn't have to. Finish what you started yesterday,” he laughs.

Niall rolls his eyes, but it's all in good fun. He shuffles downwards of course. Even if he tries to be dominant, and even if he knows that he's the king of getting what he wants with a cute pout, he's well aware he's never the one who's actually in control.

So he definitely takes Harry's prick in his mouth and sucks on the tip of it hard, coating it with saliva.

“Got some lube up here if you want it,” Harry says breathlessly, pointing down to his side.

“Fuck you,” Niall mutters, his mouth full of cock.

Harry laughs, but then Niall flicks a particularly nice spot with his tongue and his breath hitches in his throat. Just like he had the night before, Harry reaches downwards and tangles his fingers in Niall's mess of blonde hair.

Well, sort of blonde hair.

“You should let your natural colour grow out,” Harry comments through short breaths. “It'd be hot.”

Niall doesn't stop licking Harry's dick. He just shakes his head silently.

“Hmm,” Harry sighs. “Well, I suppose the blonde does suit you _innocent_ persona quite well.”

Niall chooses that moment to deepthroat Harry as much as he can, taking in almost his whole length.

“Fuck, Niall,” Harry groans, forgetting what he was teasing him about. “Keep doing that.”

Niall does. Like a fucking expert he does, making Harry wonder how many dicks he's actually sucked in his life because it's definitely got to be more than a few.

Harry has to use every ounce of restraint he has not to fuck Niall's mouth. And even then he sort of fails at it, pleasure surging throughout his whole body at Niall's hot mouth runs its way along his cock. “Niall,” he groans, tugging at his very innocent hair. “Niall, Niall...”

He repeats his name a few more times until the sensation becomes too much and he comes in Niall's mouth. Niall takes it in stride, letting Harry fill his mouth and licking up the rest of the mess before swallowing.

“Satisfied?” Niall asks, sitting up again an wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Harry smirks and just shrugs his shoulders. He grabs a tissue off of his beside table and proceeds to clean himself off.

“Suppose so.”

Niall swats at Harry's leg. “Wanker,” he says before leaning back own onto Harry's chest.

They lay there silently for some time. Harry's not even sure if Niall's dozed off again – his eyes are closed and his breathing is even. It's actually quite nice, the two of them enjoying a lazy day together.

Not that they haven't before, but obviously nothing quite like this. It's different but it's easy. Which Harry figures makes sense since Niall is one of his best friends.

The buzzing of Niall's phone startles the two of them. Niall sits up, blinking his eyes for a couple of moments before crawling over Harry and retrieving his phone from the trousers of his suit. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he starts reading the text message.

“It's Bressie,” Niall says. “Wants to meet me at the pub.”

Harry nods.

Niall pouts his lips and moves them from side to side in contemplation. “Suppose I'll go,” he says after a moment.

Harry just nods. He'd sort of rather Niall didn't since he's quite enjoying the day, but it's not like he can keep him here forever. Besides, he sees Niall plenty. That's the joy of being in a group together, after all.

Niall begins to tap on his phone, but then he pauses and looks up at Harry. “Could come too,” he shrugs.

Harry raises his eyebrow. He's never gone out with Niall to the pub. Hell, he's never even been invited. Not when Niall's gone with his “London Irish Crew” as he calls it. But he figures there's no harm in it. Plus it could be fun to see what Niall gets up to when he's with his different group of friends.

“Alright,” Harry says slowly, and Niall nods at him as he looks back down at his phone.

“Going to the Durell Arms,” Niall finally says once he's finished texting and it seems their plans are solidified. “Don't really want to go home to get a change of clothes, though.”

Harry just laughs. “I'm sure we can find something around here for you to wear.”

Niall grins and gets up, stretching his arms out. “Could do,” he laughs. “In need of another shower then, Styles.”

And Harry just watches him go, amazed at how weird and not weird this is all at the same time.

* * *

They arrive at the pub a couple of hours later. As promised, Niall's decked out in a pair of Harry's jeans (rolled up at the cuffs, of course) and one of his Rolling Stones t-shirts.

“Nialler,” Bressie greets them as they walk in and make their way over to his table. “Good to see you.” He ruffles Niall's soft blonde hair like he's greeting a younger brother, which Harry supposes really is what's happening.

“And Harry,” Bressie says, looking up at Harry once Niall sits down. Harry smiles and sits beside him, scooching onto the hard wooden bench of the booth their group has taken over. “Good to see you again, mate. It's been a while.”

Harry nods. “It has.” He's pretty sure he's only met Bressie once, but it's not like he doesn't get on with him. Like Niall, he's pretty good at finding his footing in a group of people he barely knows.

“What'll it be then, lads?” Bressie asks, obviously making his way over to the bar.

Niall shrugs and Harry looks over at him with a smirk. For as much as he can drink, Niall's preference in pints is about as light as they get.

“Carling,” Harry smirks, looking at Niall.

“Yeh,” Niall agrees.

“What?” Eoghan pipes up from across the table, his conversation with Laura instantly forgotten. “No Guinness?”

“Fuck off,” Niall spits. “Harry, last time we were out they dared me to drink Guinness for the entire night.”

Harry laughs – mostly at the face that Eoghan is making at him. “And?”

“When we were walking back to his place, he fuckin' pukes on his shoes mid-sentence. Doesn't even notice what's happened, just pukes and keeps on walkin'! What kind of Irishman can't handle their Guinness?”

“The kind that was going shot for shot with you all night as well,” Niall cuts in, keen on defending himself even though he's laughing as well.

“So order a Guinness,” Eoghan cajoles him, eyebrows wiggling.

“Can't stomach it after I coated my shoes in it. Those were fuckin' nice shoes! Fuckin' hell.”

Sometime during all of this, Bressie actually left to get their pints. So when he comes back he's holding two Carlings and definitely not a Guinness. Because unlike Eoghan, it's clear that looking out for Niall is his top priority.

“So you've heard one of his then,” Laura says to Harry once he and Niall clink their glasses together and start drinking. “Tell us an embarrassing story about this one,” she turns her attention to Niall and nods her head slightly towards Harry.

Niall shrugs his shoulders but Harry knows it's not because he doesn't know any embarrassing stories. Certainly he does. Again it just comes with the territory. Embarrassing stories that are safe for sharing? That aren't cemented in the pact of the group that “this never leaves the tour bus?”

Well. There probably aren't a lot of those.

“Well, back when we all lived in the same complex... fuck, that was a long time ago,” Niall shakes his head slightly, taking another sip of his pint as he steals a glance at Harry. “Anyway, the five of us used to all live in this complex and Harry shared with Louis because he was the youngest and couldn't actually live alone and Louis was supposed to be the most responsible.”

Harry snorts because that's so far from the truth.

“Right,” Niall laughs, knowing exactly what Harry's thinking. “Anyway, Harry comes home with this bird and they go to his room. What he doesn't know is that Louis has slid a credit card into the door so it didn't actually lock.”

Harry shakes his head and takes another sip of his pint. Yeah, he remembers that day well. Fucking Louis. Being his roommate definitely had its drawbacks.

“Yeah, so,” Niall continues as the rest of them listen to him eagerly. “You can see where this is going. Louis rounds the rest of us up and we burst open the door right when they're in the middle of it. You'd think that she'd scream and run off but no – she actually starts shrieking as soon as she sees Zayn,” Niall pauses, slapping his knee and laughing so hard he's gasping for breath at this point.

Harry rolls his eyes because he doesn't actually think it's that funny.

“She jumps off of Harry and declares she wants to be with him instead. Fuck.” Niall collapses onto the table in a fit of giggles, reaching out for his pint and clasping his hand around what's left of it. Which isn't much.

Eoghan snorts. “That's alright mate. Once Niall was flirting with this girl outside the bar. She was standing there uncomfortably while he babbled on, and when he finally took a break from his endless chatter she told him he was too young and that she was really looking for someone more mature. Then,” he stops to laugh and bang the table with his hand. “She ends up leaving with someone even younger than him.”

“Hey,” Niall says angrily, holding out his pint and shaking it at Eoghan. “Wasn't this supposed to be embarrassing stories about Harry?”

He just laughs again. Harry laughs too. Niall just shakes his head and takes a large sip of his pint.

“Wanker,” he says just as Laura stands up to go to the loo.

“Shag her yet?” Niall asks as soon as she's out of hearing rage – which is pretty much as soon as she's five steps away from the table.

Eoghan glares at him. “Fuck you.”

Niall just giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry. “Never gonna happen.”

Harry smiles. He doesn't really know any of these people or whatever inside jokes they're talking about. But that's alright – he's fine to just sit here, drink pints and listen to stories. Mostly embarrassing ones about Niall that Eoghan can relate to whatever the topic at hand is.

At the end of the night, they're stumbling out of the pub.

“Gonna get a car?” Bressie asks Niall, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Niall just shakes his head. “Nah. Gonna walk it off.”

Bressie gives him a bit of a look, but lets it go. “Cheers, lads,” he says as he gets into a car with Eoghan and Laura.

Niall turns to Harry. “My place?” he asks, pointing lazily. “It's just over the bridge.”

They're not overly close to the bridge or to Niall's house for that matter – it's probably going to be a good ninety minute walk from where they are. But Harry nods. He doesn't really want to go home anyway.

So they start walking. Briskly, actually, for the amount of pints that they've had.

They reach the bridge and Niall stops once they're a decent way over it. He throws his head back and his arms out.

“Love that,” he says after a moment. “It's so fucking quiet here. Just us and the river.”

Harry nods, glancing around. He doesn't know that he's actually ever walked across this bridge at half-three in the morning. But Niall's right – there's hardly anyone around. Which is rarity both in London and in their lives in general.

Niall tugs at the front of Harry's shirt and Harry gets the hint. He leans down and they kiss sloppily. Not thinking of course because they're still pretty drunk. Even though it's clearly dead around here, they should know better than anyone that just because you think no one is watching doesn't mean no one is.

Still Niall grins when he pulls away from Harry. “Come on, Styles. Not far now,” he says as though Harry doesn't know exactly where his house is. And it's still pretty far.

Kissing might be a bad plan, but Harry figures he can sling his arm around Niall's small shoulders.

“So that's your London Irish Crew, then?” he asks once they're almost over the bridge, breaking the calm silence that they're sharing.

Niall nods. “Yeh. Good lads. And Laura, obviously.”

Harry just nods, continuing to walk in not such a straight line with Niall at his side. This certainly isn't what he'd thought would be happening when he and Niall decided to go to the wedding together, but when he glances over at his friend, he can't envision a better outcome.


	3. Chapter 3

The next three days are a lot of the same. Spending the nights at each other's houses – whoever's is closest to where they wind up at the end of the night.

They don't bother with the other lads. Not that they would have on break anyway. In fact, the two of them spending this much time together is unprecedented. Zayn's at home with Perrie, of course. Liam's back home with his family and Sophia, and Louis has gone on holiday with Eleanor.

They're in Niall's house today.

Niall swings his bare legs off of Harry's lap and stands up. They've just been sitting on the sofa watching House of Cards. Well, Harry was watching it. Niall napped, or played with Harry's hair. Or distracted himself on his phone.

“Let's go get something to eat,” he announces as the credits roll across the screen and the next episode threatens to start. “Wagamama.”

Harry rolls his eyes. How stereotypical. Wagamama isn't even that good. Of course, saying that in Niall's presence is akin to insulting his mother, so Harry holds back. Which is sort of odd, because he's told Niall his thoughts on Wagamama many times before.

“Don't want to go out,” Harry says. It's the truth. “Might get papped.”

Niall gapes at Harry, his eyebrow raised and his mouth open. Harry knows that Niall knows he's bluffing.

“Since when do we ever get papped in London?” Yup, he knows.

Harry just shrugs. He's been papped in London before. Probably. He just can't think of a specific example right now and he's not really interested in searching his brain for one.

“I'll make something here,” Harry says, standing up and stretching.

Niall's eyes are on him, so Harry makes a show of keeping his arms above his head for a good five seconds longer than he normally would.

“Cut it out,” Niall finally says, whooping him in the stomach with a pillow. “Show off.”

Harry snorts while he walks into the kitchen. He can hear Niall right behind him, his small feet puttering against the hardwood floor.

“No food,” Harry says, peering into the fridge. It's a sad state of affairs. A jar of mayonnaise, a container of something that's surely gone bad, a few wilty carrots. “Gonna have to go to Tesco.”

“Might as well go to Wagamama, then.” Niall widens his eyes hopefully.

Harry chooses to roll his. He's set on cooking something now, and there's no way he's forcing down a bowl of noodles in place of a home-cooked meal. “No, Tesco.”

Niall lets out an annoyed breath but he doesn't argue. He just shuffles behind Harry with his hands in his pockets and slips his shoes on.

Harry watches him. “You know, your ankles wouldn't take such a beating if you wore socks.”

“M'ankles are just fine.”

Harry smirks and leans down to tie up his boots. He sneaks a glance at Niall's feet. His ankles are barely visible between the angle, his skinny black jeans and his shoes – but there's still a bit of red skin poking out. His ankles aren't just fine, but Harry doesn't say anything more on the subject.

* * *

“If we were at Wagamama we'd already be eating.”

Niall's feet are placed on the bottom rung of the shopping cart and he's leaning his top half over the top bar.

Harry just shakes his head. He picks up a jar of pasta sauce and places it in the cart.

“What're you making?” Niall asks, peering down into the cart.

“You can't tell?” Harry asks as they turn a corner and move onto another aisle.

Niall shakes his head.

Harry gives him a look a motions to the ingredients in the cart. In place of Niall's precious Wagamama, Harry figures the least he can do is cook something nice. “It's chicken parmesen.”

Niall peers into the cart again and then shrugs. “Suppose I could have figured that out. Hey, what about dessert though? Gonna whip up a bit of creme brulee, ya show off?”

Harry turns the cart down the dairy aisles and tosses a block of parmesan into it. “I don't think that the two of us around an open flame is the wisest idea,” he laughs. He glances around to make sure no ones watching them before picking up a can of whipped cream. “Had something else in mind.”

Niall's eye widen. “Are you mad?” His voice is a hushed whisper, even though a smile plays on his mouth. “Get that in the cart before anyone sees that look on your face.”

Harry laughs. There's no one around, and Niall's probably being overly paranoid (which is rich, given that _he's_ not usually the one who gets papped every time he turns a corner.) but he tosses it in the cart and continues towards the checkout just the same.

“You love it,” Harry says, wrinkling his nose and smacking his lips in the air before they get close to the line to pay.

Niall doesn't argue.

* * *

“Look at that,” Harry says an hour and a half later, pulling the chicken out of the oven. “They're perfect.”

Niall peers over his shoulder. “Smells just as good as Wagamama, I suppose.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Smells better.”

Niall scoffs, but Harry knows he's just being difficult on purpose. He sets the table all the same, and even digs out a couple of candles he's got laying around. “What'll you have to drink, then?” he asks while Harry arranges the food on their plates.

Harry shrugs. “Got any wine? A red might go well with this.”

“Hmmm...” Niall digs around in his pantry. Harry watches him not hoping for anything – Niall's not much of a wine drinker. He's more of a pints lad. Or on rare occasions he'll drink a gin and tonic. But that's usually at the end of the evening when the beer starts to sit a little too heavily.

“I've got this,” Niall says, standing up and pulling out a bottle of Shiraz. “Think I got it as a housewarming gift or something. Any good?”

Harry takes the bottle from Niall's hands and inspects it. “Yeah, this'll be okay. Got any wine glasses?”

“Uhhh...” Niall glances up and his cupboards and climbs onto the counter to reach the top shelf.

Harry just shakes his head, walking out of the kitchen and placing the plates of food on the dinner table. If this was any person other than Niall, he'd be worried that he'd return to the kitchen to see him on the floor, having fallen off the counter.

But Niall does stuff like the all the time, and he's more agile than most people he knows. And sure enough, when Harry comes back Niall's back on the kitchen tile again, holding a box of stemless wine glasses.

“I take it this was also a housewarming gift?”

Niall shrugs and scratches the back of his head. He also bites his lip a little bit which tells Harry that he's actually uncomfortable. “Uh, no,” he laughs a bit.

Harry rolls his eyes. Has Niall actually forgotten that he isn't some random guy in his house and that Harry can read him like a book? It comes with the territory of spending ten months on the road together every year.

“It was a birthday gift, from Amy...”

Harry actually bursts out laughing, even if a little fire of jealousy is lit in his lower abdomen. So that's why Niall was acting awkward. Because their relationship has changed and suddenly talking about the girls they've slept with is a taboo subject.

But it doesn't have to be. “Oh, so she was right on the mark with that one.”

Niall laughs again, the awkwardness fading away a little bit. “Reckon she wanted me to be a little more posh. But I thought it'd be better to spend my time with someone who really knows me.”

At that, Niall inches closer to Harry and presses his lips against his. As many times as they've kissed over the past week, Harry still can't get over Niall's lips. They're not always soft, but they're always parted perfectly and the small shape of them fits on his own mouth like a dream.

“I'd say you've done well at that.”

“Mmmhmmm...”

Harry pulls away from Niall with a smile and plants a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Come on, food's going to get cold.”

Niall whimpers, but follows Harry to the dining room all the same. Harry smiles to himself, sitting down and cracking open the bottle of wine. This place doesn't actually look half bad – it's a far cry from the type of meal he ever expected to have one-on-one with Niall. In fact, the only time he's ever seen Niall eat fancy is when it's mandated by their team.

But he figures that dining fine once in a while isn't such a bad thing.

“Cheers,” he says, holding up his glass.

“Cheers, mate,” Niall says, clinking his own glass against Harry's and taking a large swig.

“You're supposed to sip it,” Harry says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up, Cheshire,” Niall says, his voice dripping with dry wit. Harry just laughs – he's got to. Between Niall and Louis there's never a long amount of time without a less than serious comment being thrown around. “In Dublin, we like to actually quench our thirst.”

“Right,” Harry snorts, cutting into his chicken. “That's why it ends up on your shoes then?”

“That was in London,” Niall counters, his mouth full of food. “Hey, this is really good!”

Harry can't help but blush a little. When did Niall get this sort of power over him? Of course he's always thought Niall was cute – he's sure everyone in the group thinks that though. Everyone in the world, really. But this feeling of his insides melting whenever Niall pays him a compliment? That's definitely new.

“Thanks,” is all he can think to say.

“You're a right Gordon Ramsey,” Niall laughs, finishing off his glass of wine and promptly pouring himself another.

“What? I managed to make something good out of your kitchen nightmare?”

“Oi!” Niall laughs, pretending to be offended and smacking himself in the chest. “My kitchen wasn't that bad! Found you your posh wine glasses, didn't I?”

“You did,” Harry concedes, smiling at Niall again. He looks at the table, the candles, the wine and Niall sitting across from him. This like is a proper date. But without the awkwardness and the fumbling around each other. They're already comfortable and they don't have to dance around any conversation.

Maybe Liam was onto something when he told him that friends make better lovers. Granted, he probably wasn't referring to shagging one of their bandmates when he said that, but if the shoe fits...

And Niall certainly looks lovely against the soft glow of candlelight.

“What?” Niall asks, his accent cutting through the silence.

“Nothing,” Harry says, because there's no way he's going to tell Niall what he's feeling. So maybe there's a little bit of awkwardness. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

“I know, you were just admiring me.” He takes his hand and drags it over the side of his face and down the back of his neck. “Because I'm gorgeous.”

Harry rolls his eyes to keep up the charade. “Uh huh. Gonna have to touch up your roots for that to be true.”

“Heyyyy,” Niall whines, his mouth turning down into a pout. “Weren't you the one telling me that I should grow it out?”

“If you want to do that you'll have to colour the rest. Because you've got a half and half thing going on right now.”

“It's called frosted tips, Harry. Thought you were the fashionable one.”

“It's not 1995, Niall.”

Niall just laughs – his signature, loud, unmistakable laugh. And just like that Harry melts all over again.

They finish up their dinner and Harry gathers up the plates, offering Niall a small smile.

“Just leave them,” Niall says, standing up and touching Harry on the wrist. “I'll clean it up.”

Harry raises his eyebrow. He's never known Niall to clean anything up in his life. The only reason his house is so clean is because he gets someone in once a week to do it for him. Or Maura will when she's come to visit him and has had enough of his piles of laundry.

“Might be interested in a bit of dessert.”

Harry's doesn't miss the mischievous look on Niall's face. And it's not all that subtle anyway – he was the one who made the suggestion in Tesco, after all.

“Oh yeah?”

Niall just wiggles his eyebrows, sauntering off to the kitchen and returning with the can of whipped cream. Harry darts upstairs to Niall's bedroom, and Niall is obviously quick to follow. Before Harry knows what's happening, Niall's pushing him down on the bed.

Harry looks up at Niall and has to stifle a laugh. Niall couldn't be less daunting if he tried, with his bright blue eyes and angelic grin. There's nothing dominant about him.

But Harry still likes it. There's nothing he doesn't like about it.

“Off with your shirt, Styles.”

Another giggle stifled, but Harry does as he's told, unbuttoning his plaid shirt and sitting up a little bit so he can shrug it off. He locks eyes with Niall and then does one better, pulling off his jeans and pants and tossing them aside as well.

“Eager?” Niall asks, straddling him, still fully clothed.

“Obviously,” Harry replied, placing his hands on Niall's hips. “ _I'm all yours I've got no control...”_ he sings, purposely drawing out the line.

Niall just smiles and doesn't respond with the next line or with a comment about how he loves that song they've just recorded. That's how Harry knows his head is elsewhere and clouded with other, much more naughty thoughts that those of their album.

Because Niall's _always_ got a comment about their music.

When Niall leans down to kiss Harry, his clothing rumples against his skin. The fabric of his old black t-shirt that doesn't fit him quite right is soft, and it smells... well, it smells like Niall. Which is a weird mix of fabric softener and coffee beans.

Harry slips his hand up the back of Niall's shirt, rubbing his hand against his skin which somehow manages to be softer than his shirt. Harry briefly wonders if Niall actually uses that milk and honey soap that he got him for Christmas when Niall has complained about his skin being dry and breaking out too much.

“Uh, Harry,” Niall sighs, pulling away from him and pulling his shirt off. “Let's give this a try, yeah?” He's still holding the can of whipped cream, and he gives it a shake.

Harry nods, even though he couldn't care less about the stupid can of whipped cream at this point. He just wants Niall's body back against his own.

Niall smiles to himself, standing up and pulling off his shorts. He leaves his underwear on though, much to Harry's dismay.

“Come on, Niall,” Harry whines, just because he knows that's what Niall wants.

But Niall just laughs, leaning down and uncapping the whipped cream. “Not much of an artist,” he says, drawing a heart on Harry's chest.

“I think you're just fine,” Harry replies, his breaths short on account of Niall's mouth lapping up the sticky cream on his skin.

Niall just giggles, soft and cute in between kisses on Harry's skin. This gentle and tender side of Niall is new. Harry would have pictured him as a rougher lover, honestly. Not that he ever thought about Niall like that before this past week. But this soap opera sweet boy nipping at his skin? It's so far from what he would have thought and such a nice contrast from Niall's loud personality that he can hardly take it.

It makes him wonder what else Niall could be hiding underneath the surface.

Niall looks up at him when he's finished with all the whipped cream. His eyes are hazy and his lips half-open. Harry gulps, looking at his flushed face and trying to see through Niall's eyes what he must be thinking about.

Right in front of him is one of the four people he knows the best in the world, and Harry's quickly realising that he's got so much left to discover.

“You've got some on your nose,” he whispers, breaking their silence.

Niall doesn't laugh. He just keeps looking at Harry. But when he leans down to kiss him, Harry wraps his arms around Niall and rolls him onto his back. It's his turn to be in control, even if this is the most vanilla sex that they've had so far. He kisses the tip of Niall's nose, getting the bit of whipped cream that's on it and then presses his lips softly against his mouth.

“My turn,” Harry says, picking up the can of whipped cream. But instead of going for the chest like Niall did, Harry does him one better. He shuffles down, pulling off Niall's stupid black boxer-briefs and tossing them to the side.

Niall doesn't argue. Obviously.

Harry shakes the can and sprays some of the cream onto Niall's inner thigh. He leans down, licking it up with the tip of his tongue, tracing Niall's skin and going as slow as he possibly can.

Niall can't sit still, and truthfully Harry's never known him to be able to. Even on his days off where he declares he's going to be in bed all day he's either tossing and turning or sitting on the could watching the telly, getting up to just walk around and let off some of that pent up energy that's constantly building inside of him.

“Fuck, Harry,” Niall moans. “I didn't do this to you.”

Harry smirks to no one but himself, because Niall can't see him with his face buried in his skin. Without warning, he takes Niall's cock into his mouth. This is the easy part, sucking Niall off while his blonde head thrashes from side to side, unable to do anything else but pant and moan.

“Harry, come on,” Niall breathes, reaching down and digging his fingers into Harry's hair.

Harry pops his mouth off of Niall's prick and he looks up at him just as he hears Niall gasp. “What?” he asks.

Niall just thrusts his hips upwards.

And they're back to this, which isn't surprising. As soon as Harry got him going, Niall's no longer able to be that tender lover who broke through earlier in the evening.

Or maybe that's not true. After lubing himself up and prepping Niall, Harry enters him easily. Niall gasps again, but it's better this time. Not a shocked whine, but a full on breath of air as Harry fills him up.

Harry goes slowly, and Niall probably thinks it's because he wants to torture him, but Harry really just wants to savour this moment with him. Both of them are quiet, just breathing heavily and moving against each other – the only other noise is the soft creaking of Niall's pillow-top mattress.

Harry wants to lean down and kiss him but he can't stop looking at him, can't stop watching him, can't stop taking in the sight of his glazed over blue eyes and half open swollen mouth. His fluffy hair flopping against his forehead because he hasn't bothered to put any product in it while they've been on break.

Niall hold his breath and arches his back, which Harry knows well enough by now means he's about to come. He thrusts harder into him, choosing this moment to bury his head in the crick of Niall's neck because he's almost there too.

“Harry,” Niall moans, and Harry can feel him coming between their bodies. Niall's soft voice and heavy breathing is enough for Harry too and he thrusts into him hard, cock pulsing inside of Niall.

They lay there for a couple of minutes, catching their breath. This is madness. Harry turns his head to the side and looks at Niall. It's fucking madness because his chest heaves and his heart pounds. It's never been like this before – not even with Taylor who he was sure he was in love with after two short months.

He gulps, because it should be fucking terrifying but it's not. It's just Niall, and he doesn't know how he never saw it before.

“Jesus, Harry,” Niall finally says, wrapping his arm around Harry and not bothering to clean up the mess they've made. “That was...”

Harry just nods, because he can't say anything. If he does, he's afraid that he'll tell Niall he loves him. And even in their post-sex haze, Harry knows it's far too early for that.

But if things continue on like this, he won't be able to stop himself from saying it sometime soon.


	4. Chapter 4

All good things must come to an end, and a week later Harry's sitting in the Rogers Centre in Toronto. The North American leg of their tour is set to start that night.

They flew into Canada separately – Harry on the plane with Liam, Niall with Louis and Zayn on his own. Flights often get booked far in advance so there was nothing that Harry could have done about this arrangement – not that he really wanted to anyway.

He and Niall haven't spoken about it, but there's been no mention of explaining their situation to the other members of the group. And asking for flights to be changed around at the last minute would have raised a lot of questions.

Besides, being that close to Niall on a flight for nine hours and not being able to touch him would have driven Harry crazy. Better to just go separately.

Of course now, Harry's sitting backstage in the catering area picking at a plate of food and going over the setlist in his head. He keeps glancing at the clock on the wall... and then pulling out his phone and looking at the time on there. Or checking for a text message. Anything.

Finally after checking approximately fifty-seven times, one comes though.

_Gettin whisked through the security exit, too many screamin girls christ_

Harry snorts back a laugh. Of course Niall would text him griping about the amount of fans at the airport. Why would this be any different than any other time? He could probably make a collection of those text messages on his phone. They're usually all the same.

_Why cant they just be sane??? we could probably go say hello if they didnt freak out_

_how did they even know i was comin home for t weekend? Girls everywhere in de gar_

_they figured out it was our car and now we have to take a detour :(_

Harry holds back a witty comment about how Niall obviously doesn't prefer the company of screaming _girls_. Best to leave that out in the event his or Niall's phone gets taken by one of the others who like to snoop around. Which is really just Louis – because he can't keep his nose out of anything. If the fans knew how often it was actually Louis tweeting from Niall's account for a laugh, surely they'd have a fit.

So he just texts him back something simple.

_You know that's always the way. See you soon x_

He leans back in his seat and waits. Breaks are always nice but being on tour is easily where all five of them feel the most at home. He knows that Niall is probably itching to get into the limo and arrive at the venue as well. There's nothing like that moment of walking into the first venue on any leg of the tour. It gives Harry butterflies in his stomach just thinking about it – all of the shows they're about to perform and all of the cities they're about to travel to and all of the new stadiums they're about to see.

He knows Niall's probably thinking all of the same things and it makes him giddy. Because no one gets more excited about tour time than Niall does.

“Lads!” Niall's loud voice cuts into Harry's thoughts half an hour later. Harry can't help but look up and smile as Niall's makes a beeline for him. Without thinking, he stands up and hugs Niall tightly. And maybe he lingers for a couple seconds extra, but it's not like anyone will notice. The two of them have always been overly affectionate.

“Got away from the girls, I see?” Harry asks when he pulls away from Niall.

“Barely,” Niall laughs, walking over to the food trays and picking up a plate. “There were so many of them and we barely had any room to breathe in that security exit.”

“It was horse shit,” Louis calls to them from the other side of the room, and extends him arm in solidarity with Niall. And of course, Niall extends his own back. Harry just shakes his head. Niall and Louis have an odd relationship that he'll never be able to understand. It likely stems from the two of them having the same dry, sarcastic sense of humour. The odd contrast lies in Niall having more of a conscience about the things he says than Louis does.

“Really was,” Niall says, looking up at Harry. “But s'all good. We're here now. Can't wait to get out on that stage.

“Well if they didn't scream for you in the airport, they wouldn't scream for you in the crowd.” Harry raises his eyebrows when he and Niall sit back down and Niall starts to shovel food into his mouth like he hasn't eaten in a week.

Niall nods his head. “Yeah, you're right.”

* * *

It's dark and screams fill the stadium. It's funny because Harry can always tell what's happening in the opening video by the way the crowd sounds. Niall and the puppy always seems to get a resounding cheer, as does his own moment on the airplane.

The music thumps heavily and Harry takes in a deep breath. Out of the whole show, this is easily the most nervewracking, adrenaline filled moment. The few seconds before the door opens to reveal them to the crowd. He can't quite explain it, and he's sure no one else understands what it feels like other than the four other guys standing with him.

He leans over and glances at Niall, offering him a wide grin. Niall grins back – full on with teeth and everything. Harry takes a deep breath and stands back up, but not without darting his eyes back at Niall. Standing there in the middle, holding his guitar and wearing his ripped jeans and favourite t-shirt and plaid vest combo, he's a picture perfect rock star. Everything he's ever wanted to be.

And if that door wasn't opening, Harry might have slid past Zayn and enveloped Niall in a hug. Starting the show like _that_ certainly would have earned screams from the crowd.

But it doesn't matter – they've already earned enough screams just by standing there.

Harry steals one last glance at Niall before bringing the microphone to his lips and darting off to one side of the stage.

“ _Straight off the plane to a new hotel...”_

_* * *_

After the show and after being whisked back to the hotel, Harry heads straight for Niall's room. He doesn't even bother to get changed or shower. Instead he just knocks on the door.

Niall answers it right away – still glistening and glowing from the show. Harry gulps when he steps inside, unable to stop staring at Niall's bare chest.

“About to have a shower,” Niall says, unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them and tossing them aside. “C'mon.”

Harry doesn't need to be told twice. His clothes make a trail to the bathroom, following Niall into the hot stream of the shower.

Without a drop of alcohol, Niall's always intoxicated after a concert. Drunk on the adrenaline. They're all like that – but it always hits Niall the hardest. He can never sleep and he's always ready to go. Either to a club or to bed with whoever he's dating at the time.

Niall kisses him roughly, the water matting down his dirty hair. He wraps his arms around Harry, nestling one of his legs in between Harry's. He rubs up against him, already hard and not wasting any time in burning off some of his pent up energy.

Harry digs his fingers into Niall's back as the two of them thrust against each other. Getting clean is a second thought at this point, but at least the hot water is helping to rid them of the sweat from the hot stage lights.

Niall pulls away from Harry's mouth and settles on his shoulder. He kisses and nips and bites. It's probably going to leave a mark (or a few) but Harry doesn't care. All he can do it lean his head back and take it. All that's going through his mind is _Niall Niall Niall..._

How did he even burn off steam after a show before Niall came into the picture? With a girl or with a night out at a club, perhaps. But if he knew what he'd been missing just down the hall, there would have been a lot less nights spent with Taylor, or even Caroline for that matter.

He gasps because Niall's clawing at his back now. His skin is going to be red and raw the next day. Both on account of Niall and the scaling water that's pouring on top of him.

He really couldn't care less. And by the looks of it, Niall couldn't either.

“Suck me,” Niall commands, pushing Harry away slightly.

Harry has to laugh, just a little bit. Because Niall's face is so flushed and he looks so serious about it. Like if Harry doesn't get down on his knees that instant, Niall would either push his head down or kick him out of the shower.

Which he obviously wouldn't do. But the beads of water sliding off his blonde hair and down his face, coupled with his sultry look are enough for Harry to obey any words that come out of his mouth.

He drops down to his knees, which probably would have been painful if not for the matter of his pulsing cock. Cupping Niall's arse with his hands, he pulls him closer to his face and takes the tip of his cock in his mouth. It's warm and wet, and Harry's lips slide along it easily.

“Fuck,” Niall groans from above him.

Harry smiles as much as he can, using his hands to fuck his face with Niall's cock.

“Make me come, Harry,” Niall pants. “I need it, fuck. Ah, fuck...”

If Harry wasn't so turned on, he'd probably be amused by how Niall went from commanding him to begging him in a matter of minutes. But he does as he's told, keeping his mouth secure on the head of Niall's prick, and swirling his tongue around it while using his hand to pump the shaft.

It's Niall's kryptonite, and Harry's slept with him enough over the past week to know it. Niall smacks his hand against the shower wall, groaning as he comes, short spurts of it landing on Harry's tongue and against the back of his throat.

He doesn't need to be clean about it, seeing as they're in the shower and all. He swallows as much of it as he can, but he wipes his mouth off using the water from the shower stream.

“Your turn,” Harry says, standing up and pointing downwards.

“Ah come on,” Niall pants, leaning against the shower and closing his eyes. “'M knackered.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he's amused all the same with Niall's little game. And he can play it just as well. “Don't care. Get your dirty little Irish mouth around my cock.”

“It's not dirty! I'm in the shower, you know.” But Niall bends down in front of Harry's crotch all the same.

“I heard the words that came out of your mouth,” Harry says, just before he gasps on account of that very mouth sliding onto his cock.

Niall can't be real, he just can't be. He just leans back against the shower wall and closes his eyes. Because everything about Niall is perfect. The way his mouth moves and the way his hands end up on the sides of Harry's pelvis and the way that he just knows all the right spots to hit with his tongue.

“Ugh, Niall,” Harry groans as all the pent up pleasure releases. He sighs as Niall laps it all up, almost driving him into over-stimulation before he stops.

“Suppose we should actually get cleaned up,” Harry says. Niall nods his head, standing up and picking up the bottle of complimentary body wash. He motions for Harry to turn around – which he does. He stands under the stream of water and behind him Niall lathers up his hands, rubbing them in small circles all over Harry's back.

“That's nice,” Harry sighs, letting all of the tension flow out of him. He's slipping into relaxation now after coming down from the high of the show and the high of Niall's lips all over him.

“Yeh,” Niall says, pressing himself against Harry's back and kissing him softly on the neck.

Harry turns around, kissing Niall on the mouth for a minute as he lets the water run over his back and wash off the soap. Then Niall turns around, clearly eager for Harry to return the favour.

Harry does, of course. He lathers Niall's soft skin up expertly, making sure to touch and caress every inch of it. There's something a lot more intimate about this than any other time they've had sex. Just sharing this vulnerable silence together makes Harry feel closer to him than he ever had before.

“You're beautiful,” he sighs, once he finishes covering Niall in soap.

Niall hesitates for a moment, but then he laughs a little. “Thanks,” he says, stepping under the stream of water to rinse himself off. Once he's done, he turns the tap off. “Grab me a towel, yeah?”

Harry smiles, and he does, sliding open the glass doors and grabbing two fluffy white towels. He tosses one to Niall, and keeps one for himself.

It doesn't take long for them to dry off and soon enough they're both under the covers of Niall's king size bed. Though you'd never know it, they way that they're cuddled up together.

“That was fun,” Niall says, before he's cut off by a yawn.

“Yeah it was,” Harry replies. “Oh by the way, nice crotch grab. Getting the leg into it and everything.”

Niall giggles, burying his head in Harry's chest. “Yeah, figured I should step it up for America, you know?”

“Right,” Harry says, kissing the top of his head. Even though he doesn't want it to, sleep is beginning to take over. His eyelids are growing heavy and he can barely keep them open. “Goodnight, Niall,” he says, shifting a little to get more comfortable.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Niall says with a slight yawn. He wiggles away from Harry, rolling onto the other side of the bed. Harry's not bothered – not really. Even when they've fallen asleep in each other's arms, they've still woken up on separate ends of the bed.

Besides they have a whole king bed, they might as well use it and get a good night's sleep.

Harry draws in a deep breath and smiles before he drifts off to sleep. Niall's presence is still heavy in the room and that's really all he needs anyway. Images of the show dance through his head – Niall getting emotional during _Don't Forget Where You Belong_ , Niall's solo during _Little Things_ , Niall's dramatic hip thrusts during _Diana_...

And of course, the display in the shower that was just for him and him alone.

The North American leg of the tour is certainly shaping up to be the best.


	5. Chapter 5

“Come on,” Louis cajoles, nearly hanging off of Harry's shoulder once they're back in the hotel.

Their Canadian tour is over before it starts, and they're back in America (New Jersey, at the moment) for the next two months.

Which is apparently cause for celebration, judging by Louis's insistence in getting them all out.

“We can't even get into a bar, you know,” Harry sighs, leaning in the doorframe of his hotel room. “You and Zayn are the only ones who can.”

Louis rolls his eyes so dramatically that Harry's almost surprised they don't fall out of his head. “Oh come on,” he says again, using his number one most overused catchphrase. “You cannot be serious,” and there's the second one.

Harry sighs again. If he's being totally truthful, he was hoping he'd get some alone time with Niall. The drive over to New Jersey from Toronto left them nothing, what with Zayn being on the sleeper bus and all. And the remainder of their time in Canada was dry as well.

This is the first time they've had a free evening in a few days and Harry certainly doesn't intend to use it flaunting his celebrity status to get into a VIP area of a club he's not supposed to be in. That's a position much better suited for the blonde down the hall.

“I'm not leaving until you come with me. When did you get so lame anyway? I'll have you recall that on the last American tour-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, this time rolling _his_ eyes. He doesn't need to be reminded of his escapades last time they were in America. “Let me go get Niall, you know he'll kill us if we go out without him.”

Louis laughs. “You think I haven't tried him? Obviously he was the first person I asked. He's shacked up in his room with some bird.”

Harry's stomach physically drops. He gulps and tries as best he can not to show it on his face. He's not sure if he's successful given the beads of sweat that are starting to collect on his forehead, but Louis doesn't seem to notice.

_Some bird?_

Surely that has to be a mistake. Probably a lie that Niall told because he wanted to get rid of Louis for the same reason that Harry tried to just moments ago.

“Just...” Harry scratches the back of his head, trying to find the words to both get rid of Louis and assure himself that this is obviously a big misunderstanding. There's no combination that works – at least not one that he can find in 2.4 seconds. “Just let me get changed.” He finally settles on.

Louis narrows his eyes at him and lets out a loud sigh. He probably should have stuck with stage acting given his flare for dramatics. And he probably should have played Sandy in Grease instead of Zuko, but that's neither here nor there.

“Fine,” he says. “But don't take too long changing into a _different_ Burberry shirt.”

“This is TopShop.” Harry calls after him, but it's no use because Louis already halfway down the hall. Harry slams the door behind him and rushes over to his suitcase, pulling off his shirt and throwing on a different one to make his lie believable.

Then he heads over to Niall's hotel room, heart pounding the whole way.

He glares at the room number and tries his best to listen for any indication that something's going on inside. Of course he can't hear anything – they always end up with the most soundproof rooms possible for a lot of reasons. The least of which not being exactly what Harry's trying to listen for right now. Because a phone recording of something to that effect is the last thing any of them need showing up on a gossip website.

So he knocks on the door.

And waits.

And nothing.

He rolls his eyes, but his stomach drops again because Louis's comments are getting all the more real with every second that goes by.

He knocks again.

And waits.

And nothing.

He grits his teeth together and glares at the shiny gold numbers on the door. Because there's really nowhere else for him to look.

Maybe it was all just a lie to get him riled up. But that doesn't make any sense. Even though it seems like something Louis would do, there's no reason for it. Louis doesn't know about what's been going on with him and Niall. This lie is starting to look less and less like a lie and more and more like the truth.

Harry can't help himself and he knocks on the door. Louder this time with a few more pounds for good measure.

He waits, but he doesn't wait long. Not long enough for his mind to start racing into different scenarios again. And it doesn't have to because this time Niall actually opens the door. He only opens it a crack, but it's enough to see that Niall is shirtless. His hair is dishevelled and his pale cheeks are pink... it's a look that Harry recognizes on him all too well.

If Harry thought his stomach had dropped before, it's at his feet now.

Before he can ask Niall what the hell he thinks he's doing, Niall beats him to the punch.

And he doesn't even look sorry about it. He actually looks sort of annoyed. Like he doesn't even feel any sort of shame or guilt about what he's just been caught doing.

“What?” he asks, talking in a hushed voice. “I'm sort of... _busy.”_

The way he says he's busy makes Harry almost want to deck him. Does Niall not realise that they had a thing going on? That they spent the last two fucking weeks tangled up with each other like there was no one else in the band, much less no one else that they would rather be with?

Obviously not.

So he just plays it cool, running a hand through his long hair. “We're going out to a club. Thought you might like to join.”

Naill gapes at him. Eyes wide and mouth hung open a little bit. Like he can't believe Harry would have the audacity to ask him to go to a club of all places. The horror.

“No, thanks,” he says in a huffed breath, slamming the door in Harry's face. Harry just stands there for a second. Niall probably didn't mean to be quite so aggressive – he was probably just eager to get back to the stupid girl in his room. (Which isn't really a fair assessment – Harry doesn't know the girl in Niall's room at all and she could really be quite bright. But she's with Niall and Harry's not, ergo, stupid.)

He shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way downstairs to meet Louis. Not that he's particularly in the mood for clubbing after that display, but a drink will probably do him good.

* * *

Bottle service in a roped off VIP section of the club is how their evening's looking. It's how most of their evenings look when they're out clubbing. Harry's never known them to be able to be in the common area of the club. The one time that he and Liam tried back in London they were mobbed and had to be escorted out by the club's security.

So the VIP section it is. It's better that way anyway, given Harry's not actually supposed to be in the club. But they spend enough money and bring enough status for the staff to turn a blind eye to the year on his driver's license.

Louis sprawls across one of the shiny leather couches, pouring himself another glass of grey goose and squeezing a lemon wedge into it. “Loads of girls in here tonight.”

Harry just nods, staring into his own drink. He couldn't care less about the girls in the club. And he doesn't usually anyway, even without Niall and his stupid escapades on his mind. Sure, he's picked up one or two before but it's not a habit.

“Yeah.”

“Should think about waving one of them up here. That couch you're on looks awful lonely.” Louis raises his eyebrow and nods his head towards the common area below.

“I'm fine.”

“You'd be even better if you weren't sitting by yourself.”

“Just drop it Louis,” Harry mutters, taking another swig of his vodka and clinking the shiny ice cubs in the glass together.

“Okay.” Louis shrugs his shoulders and finishes his drink before promptly pouring another. Then he laughs a little. “I don't know how Niall does it.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Harry looks up at Louis over the top of his glass. The absolute last thing he wants to talk about is Niall. He's not about to tell Louis to shut up, because then Louis will ask why and when Harry's not able to stop himself from spilling everything Louis will be less than impressed. If his reaction to any of the fan theories and gay rumours are any indication.

“I mean really,” Louis continues laughing. “It's almost like clockwork, isn't it? Some girlfriend for a while before the tour starts, then he goes off and he's got a new one in his room almost every city.”

Harry shrugs. Then he downs his drink because everything Louis is saying is true. He's witnessed it exactly as Louis did.

“Smart lad, that one. Keeps them around when we're on break just long enough to stay entertained, but doesn't get too attached. That way he can sample what each city has to offer.”

“I wouldn't exactly call that smart,” Harry finally pipes up, trying not to grit his teeth. He's seen this from Niall ever since they got really big. Ali, Amy, Barbara... and every other girl in between them. He doesn't keep them around for long.

Why would whatever they were doing be any different? Harry gulps – he was too blind to see it before. He was falling in love and Niall was doing doing what he always does.

“Well, if it works for him why not?” Louis cuts back into Harry's thoughts.

Why not? Maybe because any of those people Niall strings along at home could end up getting hurt? He never worried or even thought too much about it until now. Until he was the one Niall was messing around with.

Harry doesn't have a good answer for Louis that won't give everything away. So he just shrugs his sad little head again. Something bubbles up inside of him – he's not sure if it's sadness because Niall isn't who he thought he was. Frustration because Niall's exactly who he thought he was. Anger with Niall because of his fucking slutty lifestyle... or with himself for not seeing it coming.

So he pours himself another drink to try and forget about it.

* * *

Harry stumbles back into the hotel with Louis at about half three in the morning. Louis waves to him before entering his own room. And harry intends to go back to his and sleep it off. He really does... but when he walks down the hall he notices the door of Niall's room.

Alcohol and adrenaline pumps through his system when he remembers Niall opening the door just hours ago. The scent of sweat and sex overpowering him and Niall right in the thick of it with some stupid girl who doesn't love him like Harry does.

Or maybe she does. Harry doesn't care. He cares so little that he finds himself pounding on the door.

Niall opens it a lot quicker this time, his eyes drooping with sleep instead of sex.

“I trust she's gone,” is all Harry says.

Niall just nods his head, still looking tired and out of it. Good. Good that he's out of it and good that his fucking sleep was disturbed because as far as Harry's concerned his whole life is disturbed. And even if that's a little dramatic, that's certainly what it feels like.

“Been drinkin' with Tommo then?” Niall asks, his voice low and thick with sleep.

Ugh, even when he's so upset with him Niall still manages to turn Harry on. And maybe if he can just show him that it's far better when they're together than when he's shagging some bird... maybe things will be different.

“Yeah,” Harry says, walking into the room while Niall steps backwards to let him in. He kisses Niall roughly, his hand stuck against his cheek and gripping his short tuffs of blonde hair.

He slides downwards, trailing kisses along Niall's bare chest and stomach before pulling his boxers down to his ankles. Without warning he takes Niall's semi-hard cock into his mouth.

Niall gasps, leaning his head back and working his fingers into Harry's hair. “Yeh, Harry,” he breathes out, just like Harry remembers. Just like he likes to hear. Because he's the only one who should get to hear Niall like that.

“Gonna probably take a while,” Niall gasps out with a slight laugh at the end. “Went for a couple rounds earlier.”

Anger bubbles up in Harry's stomach again and he can't help but picture Niall messing up the sheets with that stupid girl. Harry doesn't even know what she looks like but it doesn't matter. All that matters is what Niall looked like when he answered the fucking door.

Harry pops his mouth off of Niall's cock, suddenly sickened by the taste of it and pushes Niall backwards onto the bed.

“Aggressive?” Niall laughs, obviously not realising that Harry's not keen on continuing.

“Are you fucking serious?” Harry nearly shouts at him. “What... what in the hell is wrong with you?”

“Em...” Niall laughs a little, eyes darting from side to side. He's obviously wide awake now. “What?”

“You cannot be serious,” Harry says, borrowing one of Louis's lines. He figures now's as good a time as any for a little sass.

Niall just looks at him and Harry dramatically rolls his eyes.

“That girl earlier. In here. With _you.”_

Niall still looks confused, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. Which makes Harry even more angry, if it's possible. At the very least Niall could recognise what he did wrong.

“I thought we had something going on, and then you just went and fucked someone else.” It's blunt, but effective.

Or not. Niall raises an eyebrow. “Harry, this is what we do on tour.”

“No, this is what _you_ do on tour.”

“Okay,” Niall laughs, which gets more enraging every time that stupid grin of his spreads across his angelic face. He's anything but. “It's not like you didn't know that. Did you think it'd be different or something?”

Harry just glares at him. Obviously he thought it would be different. If he thought about it at all, which he hadn't until that moment when he opened the fucking door.

“We can still fuck. Obviously.”

That's it. That's the straw that breaks the camel's back or makes Harry so angry and upset that he hardly feels any affection at all when he looks at Niall's bright face and fair hair.

“Are you fucking joking? No, you're obviously quite content so I'll leave you be.”

And with that, he leaves Niall sitting naked on the bed as he storms out of the room and slams the door. He can wank or he can just go back to sleep or he can pick up another girl. Harry doesn't quite care.

Now, if only he could make himself believe that.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry pushes past Louis the next morning when they're loading onto the tour buses.

“Ouch, watch it,” he says, rubbing his chest with his hand.

“Hungover,” Harry says, as if that's some kind of explanation. Of course the actual reason is Niall – he's the reason for most things lately. But this morning Harry's issue is lack of sleep brought on by the bed-hopping blonde he can't keep out of his brain.

“Then I suggest you go to the sleeper bus.” Louis's tone is thick and harsh, but Harry doesn't care. He doesn't usually care for Louis's sass anyway – but especially not right now.

Besides – he's on this bus so he can avoid Niall. Who's apparently _so tired_ that he's just _got_ to be on the sleeping bus.

Nevermind that Harry spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and imagining Niall's stupid, passive face.

He walks over to his own bunk and climbs inside. Hopefully the others will be quiet so he can at least attempt to get some sleep. Though with Louis on this bus that's a pipe dream.

Still, he closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall. He's so tired and they're so heavy and the bus finally starts to roll away, almost lulling him to sleep.

Until the bus comes to a halt, jarring him awake.

“Hah! Sorry lads!”

Niall. His incessant laughter rings throughout the bus and pounds inside of Harry's head. Of course he had to show up. Of course Niall couldn't just stay on his own god damn bus. And of course Harry's not going to put the drivers out again so he just lives with Niall being in close proximity.

But he just closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep.

He's not sure if he can actually hear Niall or if he's just imagining it. But the fact that Niall's out there makes him fume. His face is hot and takes in deep breaths to try and calm himself down. It's not a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal. He's dealt with Niall and his escapades for the last four years and it's never bothered him before.

Not until he spent a fucking week fucking him.

His eyes dart open again when he definitely hears Niall laughing.

Hastily, he swings his legs out of his bunk and storms over to where Louis and Niall are sitting. They're not even doing anything that looks remotely interesting. Louis is drinking a can of Pepsi and Niall's fiddling with his phone. So he's not sure what the hell there is for Niall to be laughing so loudly about.

“Thought you were tired,” Harry snaps, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring at Niall.

Niall and Louis both look up at him. Niall sort of averts Harry's gaze and grins a bit, looking over at Louis. Like he's going to laugh off this whole thing like it's not a big deal. Like he always does. Because he's incapable of being serious ever.

“Changed my mind.” Niall shrugs, looking back down at his phone.

Harry keeps standing there glaring at him, like he's trying to get some other response out of Niall. Anything other than this aloofness would be better. Even him getting angry too. Hell, especially him getting angry because then at least it'd prove he had another emotion other than amused and horny.

Louis glances up at Harry and laughs a bit. Harry glares down at him too. He's well aware he probably looks ridiculous. Especially to Louis, who has no bloody idea what's going on.

“Really?” Harry asks, his voice shaking with anger. “Because I figured you'd be so tired after your romp in the sac last night. You sure seemed burnt out.”

Niall just ignores him, still looking at his bloody phone.

“You know damn well what I'm talking about,” Harry continues.

“Um,” Louis cuts in, raising his hand. He's unable to stop another giggle from escaping his lips – but it does little to cut the tension. “I don't.”

Harry looks over at Louis and by some miracle Niall pulls his eyes away from his phone and does too. Then, Harry glances back at Niall and their eyes connect for a moment. Niall just looks up at him, neutral expression on his face. But argument or not, Harry knows exactly what he's thinking. _Don't fuckin' say a word._

So he doesn't. Because the last thing he needs is to get Louis involved. He sighs and scratches his forehead. “Nothing,” he says, turning around and going back to his bunk. “It's nothing.”

He can hear Louis ask Niall, “What d'you reckon that was about?” Niall doesn't respond. Harry doesn't look back, but he's sure Niall just shrugged his shoulders like he had no idea and went back to whatever he was doing on his phone.

* * *

There's no show that night, but their bus still parks at the venue in order to get set up. Sometime between hour two and three of Niall's intrusion of his bus Harry actually falls asleep. Once he wakes up, Niall's gone.

“Nice of you to wake up,” Louis says, flicking off the PlayStation and slipping his shoes on.

Harry just raises his eyebrow. He's got no time for this bullshit at the best of times. And it's not like he's got an abundance of patience today. Doesn't want to see any of them, really. Just wants to get to the hotel and lay in his bed.

“Right,” he says, stretching and doing his best to look tired. He's over this.

Louis just eyes him. Like he doesn't believe whatever lie he's trying to sell. Like they can't read each other's minds on account of being in a band together for this long. But he doesn't say anything. Just pushes the door to the bus open and steps out.

Harry follows behind him. There's probably going to be food at the venue, anyway.

He glances around. Louis has caught up with Zayn and they're walking off. Probably in search of a place they have have a joint without getting in shit from Paul. Liam's walking a few paces behind them – and maybe he's going to try and get in on it too.

Niall's nowhere in sight. Harry rolls his eyes. Because now everything Niall does or doesn't do annoys the shit out of him. Even though of course Niall's not going to be following the other boys if they're just going to be smoking. And normally Harry wouldn't be either.

But he finds himself doing it just because he knows Niall won't.

As predicted, Louis and Zayn duck into a corner. Liam doesn't follow them – goes off somewhere with his phone. Probably to ring up Sophia. Harry feels a pang of jealousy in his chest. Because Liam gets to have a perfect and easy relationship. Even though he knows full well that's far from true, he still lets himself think it. Because it fuels his self-loathing moment.

He ducks into the corner with Louis and Zayn. Louis is looking down, cupping his hand around a lighter and a blunt. Zayn glances at Harry. “Yeah?” he drawls, like there's some other reason Harry's standing there other than to smoke up with them.

Harry nods his head towards Louis's hands. Zayn raises his eyebrow like it's odd. Harry supposes it sort of is and he can't really blame Zayn for his attitude. Still, he watches as Louis takes a long drag from the joint and passes it over to Harry.

It's not like Harry's never done it before, but he does have to keep from making a face when he sucks the smoke in. He hates the taste of it, the way it dries up his lungs and the way he's got to let it sit inside him for a moment before letting it go so it's got any sort of affect.

He blows the smoke out into their circle just as Zayn takes a drag. They're silent for a few minutes, just as Harry reckons that Louis and Zayn usually are when they're doing this. The more they smoke the more Harry's mind gets clouded. He doesn't want to be standing here, but he's mad at Niall. Doesn't want to be mad at Niall, but he can't help it because Niall just fucked with him for some reason that he can't figure out because he thought they were friends at the very least.

Zayn blows out a lungful of smoke and passes the joint over to Louis. It's almost done now, save for a couple more hits. Harry watches as Louis breathes in deeply.

“I fucked Niall,” he says, like it's the most casual thing ever. Maybe it is. Maybe that's all it should have been.

Zayn gives him a look. “We don't usually talk,” he says blankly. It doesn't even seem like he's understood what Harry said.

“Wait,” Louis says, breathing out the smoky air and holding a hand up. The joint is still smouldering in between his fingertips. “What?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he doesn't have enough mental capacity at the moment for dramatics. “I slept with Niall,” he says again, his voice low. Then he reaches for the joint and Louis hands it to him.

Louis just shakes his head slightly and raises his eyebrows. “Thought you two were just messing around.”

“We don't usually talk,” Zayn repeats. He takes the last of the joint from Harry and finishes it off, throwing it on the ground and smashing it underneath his shoe.

Harry couldn't care less what Zayn thinks. What either of them think, really. He just needs to get this off his chest. It's not like he'd be able to keep it a secret for long anyway.

“Shut up.” Louis is rolling his eyes now, looking right annoyed. And Harry just waits for whatever he's got to say. Too doped up to care or worry. “You're fucking up the band.”

“Don't fuck up the band,” Zayn says and Harry can't not shoot him a look. Even with the toxins running through his brain, he still hasn't forgotten how many times Zayn's no-showed at the studio. Even if Niall fucked and chucked him after Jay's wedding, at least the two of them bothered to show up.

“You're one to talk,” Harry mutters. He's probably projecting some of his anger from the Niall situation onto Zayn now. Doesn't really care.

“Alright,” Louis leans over and presses a hand to Zayn's chest when it's clear that the two of them are about to get into a row. “Don't do that shit, Harry.”

“I thought-” Harry starts, not really knowing what he thought at all.

“Yes,” Louis starts slowly. “You thought he loved you, just like everyone else who's ever slept with him has. But he doesn't. So before you get all 90210 on us, forget about it and forget about him.” Louis gives him a final look to show that he's serious about this before turning to walk away. “That wasn't even relaxing,” he mutters.

“Don't fuck up the band,” Zayn says to Harry one final time before he walks off as well. Zayn's words don't even register on his radar. He was never concerned with the fucking band. Maybe he should have gone to talk to Liam instead. Or maybe he should have just tried to have an honest conversation with Niall about what the hell went on between the two of them.

He swallows, his mouth dry. He glances around. There's probably food somewhere – and there's probably also Niall where there's food.

He shifts on his feet and stuffs his hands in his pockets before walking over to catering. Sure enough there's a spread laid out. Nothing fancy – since they've been here for about half an hour. But there's still crisps and veggies and some fruit.

As Harry predicted, Niall's sitting off in the corner. He's got a plate of crisps in front of him and he's picking at the strings of his guitar. Harry rolls his eyes, throwing a few carrots and celery sticks onto a plate and goes to sit down beside Niall.

Niall looks up from his guitar playing and wrinkles his nose. “Been smokin' with Tommo and Zayn, then,” he says before looking back down. “Don't usually do that.”

Harry sighs. He'd have some witty comeback for Niall if he wasn't so stoned out of his mind. In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best idea. “We should talk.”

“Don't have anything to talk about,” Niall says, still not looking up. “We had a good thing and now it's done. Don't make it out to be more than it is.”

Harry just looks at him. He swallows again – his mouth is still dry. He really should have got a glass of water to go with his plate. He doesn't really have anything more to say to Niall. Niall's obviously right – he's just made it out to be more than it was. Which was nothing. A fun evening that went too far and lasted too long. So he just gets up to leave.

What Harry doesn't notice is Niall looking up from his guitar and watching him as he walks away.


	7. Chapter 7

“Niall...”

Niall stirs in his sleep. He rolls over on the hard mattress of the hotel room, ignoring the buzzing in his ear.

“Niall...”

He rolls over onto his side. He really doesn't want to open his eyes. Doesn't want the day to start. Just wants to go back to sleep and ignore whoever is lightly shaking his shoulder. He opens one eye and then groans when he sees Louis sitting there. It's too early in the morning for his shit. “How'd you get into my room?”

“Paul gave me a key.” He shrugs his shoulders, as if it's no big deal. As if Paul just gives out their room keys willy-nilly and Louis didn't make up some idiotic story as to why he needed to get into Niall's room without simply knocking.

Niall doesn't say anything. He just closes his eyes and hopes that Louis will get bored, leave and then he can go back to sleep. Because they've got a show that night and the last thing he wants is to wake up early.

“Talked to Harry last night.”

“Uh huh.” Niall's just going to lay here and listen to whatever Louis is on about until he decides to leave.

“He told me something interesting.”

Niall's slightly more awake now, given that he's sure he knows what Harry's told Louis. But he makes out like he doesn't know, or doesn't care. Keeps his eyes shut and his breathing even. “Hmm.”

“Basically that you fucked him... or that he fucked you. Which I have to say is surprising because I thought it'd be the other way around.”

Niall sighs with annoyance and really tries his best to go back to sleep. He doesn't want to be grilled about this. Harry's already annoyed with him for whatever reason. He doesn't need Louis on his case as well. “Yeh,” he says, and then rolls over to face away from Louis.

It doesn't work because Louis grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back over. “Don't,” he says in a much harsher tone than he had a moment ago. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Niall glares at him. All hope of going back to sleep is lost now. He's annoyed by that and by Louis butting into his personal business. Which isn't really anything – he slept with Harry for a bit and now apparently he's not anymore. “What's wrong with me?” he spits out. “What's wrong with _you_? Showin' up in my room and askin' me about this stuff.”

“Normally I couldn't give a shit what you do,” Louis says and Niall rolls his eyes. Because that's a laugh. Louis always cares too much about what everyone does. “But Harry? Really?” Louis picks up a pillow and swats Niall with it. “Don't fuck up the band.”

“Ow!” Maybe Niall's over-dramatizing a little, but he places a hand on his face where the corner of the pillow got him. “I'm not fucking up the band,” he says, because really he's not. It was a couple weeks, if that. They had a laugh, had sex, and it was fun. He's 20 years old, for christ's sake. Doesn't need to be running off and getting married. “And what's wrong with Harry?”

“Nothing's wrong with Harry, you prick. That's just the problem, isn't it? Would it kill you to stay in a relationship for longer than ten minutes?”

“Ugh,” Niall groans, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “It's too early for this, Tommo.”

“Out of all the people in the world, why, _why_ would you pick someone in the band?”

Niall sits up because he's starting to get right annoyed now. He doesn't even know the answer to Louis's question. “Dunno,” he says with a shrug. “We were drunk. He was there. Just happened.”

“He's really upset about it you know,” Louis says, ignoring Niall's weak explanation.

“No,” Niall snaps. Obviously he knows. Harry wouldn't have freaked out the day before if he weren't upset. “Really?”

“Will you fix it?” Louis asks him. His tone is harsh and his eyes narrow at Niall. “Because honestly, Niall, this is the last thing-”

“Alright-” Niall cuts him off. He reaches around to scratch the back of his neck and stretch his arm out a bit. “'M not gonna become his boyfriend or anything,” he says, but he feels a weird pang in his chest along with it.

“Whatever. Just fix it. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go tell Zayn off for something he said to Liam yesterday.” Louis gets up and walks out of the room, slamming Niall's hotel room door behind him.

Niall rolls his eyes and flops back down onto the bed. He almost wishes that the fans were right about Liam being the one who keeps them all in line. Because Louis constantly getting on all of their cases and curbing any sort of potential drama before it starts (but often just making it worse in the process) is tiring.

He drags himself on his elbows over to the table next to the bed where his phone is sitting. He half hopes he's got a text from Harry that he can just respond to, but he doesn't. In fact, he's actually got nothing. Not a text from any girls, not even a text from his mum.

He taps on Harry's name and stares at the screen for a couple of seconds. c _ome t my room.whnever._

_* * *_

Harry's scrolling through his phone. There's nothing interesting on Twitter – there never is and he closed it down almost as quickly as he opened it up. Now he's just going through Instagram. He likes a couple pictures that Gemma posted and that's when Niall's stupid text slides down on his screen.

He stares at it for a second. He can't help but be annoyed that even though he can spell just fine, Niall can't seem to grasp basic concepts of the English language. That, and he doesn't even know why Niall's bothering to text him at all. It's clear he had no interest in talking things out. That Harry was just a fling to him. That their relationship or hell, their friendship, meant nothing to him.

But he finds himself getting up and pulling on a robe before walking over to Niall's room. He takes a deep breath and lightly knocks on the door.

Niall answers right away. His hair is dishevelled and he hasn't even bothered to put on a bloody t-shirt. And even though Harry's angry with him, he finds himself having a really difficult time not letting his eyes wander.

“You rang?” he says, because he'd rather just get this over with. Whatever this is.

“Yeh,” Niall says, stepping back into the room. Harry follows quickly behind and is careful to close the door behind him. Because the last thing he wants is for anyone to overhear them.

Niall sits down on the edge of the bed and leans back on his palms. He nods his head towards the chair in the corner of the room.

“I'll stand, thanks,” Harry says. “I don't intend to be here long.”

Niall sort of gives him a look but then he continues on with it. “Look. Tommo came by and said you're angry with me.”

Harry scoffs. Because of course Louis is the instigator here. Heaven forbid that Niall come to any sort of conclusion about his actions on his own.

“What?” Niall asks, looking up at Harry with annoyance written on his face. His dark eyebrows are angled and his mouth is turned down.

“You just don't get it, do you?” Harry says, trying to sound as calm as possible while he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. Niall's still looking up at him and he still looks annoyed. “Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?”

Niall looks taken aback by that statement. He actually reels backwards slightly. A confused look replaces the annoyed one he wore moments ago. “Yes,” he says, sounding slightly hurt.

Harry doesn't care if that's the case. In fact, if it is, he figures that's good. Niall could stand to join him in being hurt by all of this. “Really? Because it didn't seem like it. You and I, like... we had something going on-”

Niall opens his mouth to try and interrupt, but Harry just keeps talking.

“And then you just brought some girl back to your room.”

“Harry,” Niall almost laughs. “I always do that.”

Harry was trying to be calm. Keep this civil. He really and truly was but Niall's flippant attitude sets him off. “Yes, of course you do. Because that's you, isn't it? Just go fuck anything that moves without caring who you hurt in the process.”

“That's not fair,” Niall mutters, looking down at his feet.

“It bloody well is,” Harry says. “We had this thing that was really good.”

“It was,” Niall insists. “It was really good.”

“Right,” Harry continues, happy with the breakthrough. However slight it is. “Can you imagine how that felt, Niall? I was falling in love with you-”

“Love? Come on, Harry. It was two weeks.” Niall laughs, like the notion is ridiculous. It makes Harry's blood boil.

“But I haven't known you for only two weeks, have I?” he asks, through gritted teeth. “You are so fucking insensitive, so fucking up in your own head, so fucking locked into this world that you created that doesn't exist-”

“Actually, that would be you,” Niall cuts him off. “Creatin' stuff that doesn't exist. It doesn't have to be all serious all the time.”

Harry lets out a low breath as he glares down at Niall. He hates his flippant attitude. Hates his stupid bare shoulders. Hates that even after all this, he still wants to push him down on the bed and fuck him until he's in just as much pain as Harry is.

“Niall,” Harry says instead of doing any of those things. He kneels down and grabs onto Niall's shoulders. “You are absolutely the worst person I have ever met.”

And with that, he pushes Niall slightly. He turns and opens the door, keen on storming back to his own room. Instead he's met with Louis, who's got his ear at the door.

“Unbelievable,” Harry mutters, shoving his way past Louis. “I hate this fucking band.”

Niall's sat there still, stung by Harry's words. He swallows because he's sure as hell not going to allow this to affect him. Harry's just confused and he's just hurt by whatever relationship he thought they had. Which they didn't – they were just fucking around. It wasn't serious. It never even seemed serious. Niall swallows the lump in his throat down again. And... he hates the band?

He scampers off of the bed. He hangs onto the doorframe and ignores Louis standing there. “Harry!” he calls out, but Harry doesn't look back at him.

Louis presses a hand to Niall's bare chest and pushes him back into his room. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I didn't do anything...” Niall mutters. He still believes that, but it doesn't mean he feels good about it.

“Oh, so Harry's pissed off for nothing then?” Louis glares at Niall and then he shakes his head and walks away.

Niall slams his door shut and leans back against it. If he'd known this stupid fling with Harry was going to turn into a whole big mess, he wouldn't have done it in the first place. The whole point was that they were friends, it was supposed to be a bit of casual fun.

Niall swallows again, but this time he can't stop the lump rising in his throat. His chest feels tight and his face is hot but he's not about to let himself cry. Not over something as stupid as this.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Foxborough!” Liam shouts into the crowd. “We've done a lot of these shows, but I truly think that you are the loudest crowd so far!”

Niall looks over at him with a laugh. His guitar hangs from the strap off of his shoulders. He walks over to Liam, tapping him on the shoulder. At least Liam's not angry with him. Hell, Liam doesn't even know what's going on.

“Well hello there, Nialler,” Liam laughs, taking a sip from his water bottle and patting Niall on the back. “Everyone, give it up for our very own Niall Horan!”

The crowd screams of course and Niall grins. His smile is wide, practically from ear to ear. Yeah, Liam doesn't hate him and neither do fifty-thousand people in the crowd. So Harry really doesn't matter. And neither does Louis.

Still, he glances over at them. Harry's standing off to the side, waving at someone in the crowd. He always does that – tries to have these little personal interactions in a sea of people. Can't ever just bask in the moment. Niall used to find it endearing, now he's just irritated by it.

He walks over to Harry as _Happily_ starts, trying to get his attention. He taps Harry on the shoulder. When Harry turns around, he grins. Harry gives him a bit of a look, shakes his head and starts off the first lines. _“You don't understand, you don't understand...”_

Harry walks away from Niall and keeps singing, and Niall turns his back to the crowd and rolls his eyes. Harry's being a right drama queen, using that stupid song against him. Doesn't even apply.

He turns back around to the crowd when it's time for his part. He throws his hands in the air. _“We're on fire, we're on on fire...”_ he sings. If Harry can be dramatic, he can throw it right back. And better too, because the crowd screams louder for him. He's sure of it.

The song continues on into the chorus and Niall bounces over to Louis. Louis always sings this song with such passion, holding his arm out in front of his face. Naill sort of loves it and he always tries to be a part of it. Because by this part of the concert, his _Don't Forget Where You Belong_ moment is long done and he needs to get energized.

He starts fiddling around with the guitar again, trying to find the chords. Probably should have just kept playing throughout the entire song instead of goofing off and trying to get a reaction from the audience. Still, he finds it and starts playing along. He goes up right next to Louis, and Louis opens his eyes slightly.

He keeps singing of course, but some of the energy he had is gone.

He glances over at Zayn. Niall doesn't even bother to go over to him – even at the best of times Zayn wouldn't be interested in messing around with him on stage. Niall just looks down at his guitar and keeps playing it.

He's not even fucking up the band – Louis and Harry are the ones fucking it up and making a big deal out of nothing.

He glances back over to Liam. Happy, oblivious Liam. He thinks briefly about telling Liam everything that went down after the show. Then he frowns. Liam would probably just get on his case too. He'd be nicer about it, since he's nice about everything, but he'd still get on his case. Saying he shouldn't mess with the band, shouldn't sleep around, shouldn't sleep around within the band.

Niall chews at his lip as _Little Things_ starts. Probably best to just keep it to himself and wait until it blows over with Louis and Harry.

* * *

They've got two more shows in Foxborough, so it's back to the hotel straight away.

Harry leans back in the shower, staring up at the white tiles of the walls. He's not sure he can take two more days of this, much less the rest of the tour, and then the next tour... It makes him sick to think about.

And Niall trying to act normal on stage just upsets him further. He supposes it makes sense – it's not like he was going to act any different. Of course he was going to fool around and put on a show for the fans.

Harry hits his fist against the shower wall. That's just like Niall. Putting on a show for everyone in the whole world every second of his life. Not actually paying attention about what's going on around him. Just bouncing around and laughing.

He swallows hard, conflicted. Niall's stupid attitude is one of the things he loves the most about him. He doesn't want to hate him – and he doesn't. Not really. He just can't understand why Niall's so oblivious to everything. He thinks back to their argument that morning. Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh with him.

But Niall's face averting his gaze and just laughing it all off infuriated him. Even worse, he was sitting there with his hair messed up, his skin red and soft from sleep. If Niall hadn't been such a prick earlier, maybe Harry would have given in, nipping at his skin and pushing him down onto the bed.

He doesn't even realise he's touching himself until he's doing it. Stroking his cock and leaning back against the cool tile of the shower. The water rushes down over him and he moans, remembering Niall being in there with him three nights ago.

“Niall,” he groans, confident that no one can hear him anyway. It doesn't matter. He can still be angry with him and think he's hot. The water runs over his hand and he uses it to his advantage, stroking himself and letting it slip through his fingers.

He imagines Niall kneeling in front of him as he thrusts into his own hand. The water would be running over his shoulders, matting down his blonde hair and making his dark brown roots all the more obvious. And Harry would be fucking his mouth without a thought, because he knows Niall can take it.

He pants as his thighs start to shake and warmth pools in his stomach. He groans, imagining Niall's soft noises underneath him. The fantasy comes to a head, and he slides down slightly as he comes into his hand. “Niall...” he breathes out, but when he opens his eyes he's all alone.

He sighs. _That was ridiculous_ , he tells himself. Getting himself off to the thought of Niall when Niall would rather be anywhere than with him. He leans his head under the water, trying to wash this mess out of his brain.

But he still can't help feeling sick to his stomach over the whole thing.

* * *

Niall's alarm goes off at noon the next day. He rolls over groggily and slams it off. He barely slept the night before, just staring up at the ceiling, replaying his argument with Harry over and over in his mind.

“ _I was falling in love with you.”_ That was a laugh – how could it not be? If Harry had been dating (hell, not even dating) someone for two weeks and she'd said that to him, he'd be running for the hills.

So what the fuck was wrong with his reaction? It was ridiculous. And all they ever did before was have a laugh.

Niall rolls over onto his side. He can probably sleep for a couple more hours. Doesn't have to be at the venue until 4 or so. He closes his eyes, but just like the hours in the night before, he can't get Harry out of his head.

“Rubbish,” he mutters to himself, crawling over to the mini-bar. It's full and he pulls himself out one of the mini bottles of vodka, downing it in one go. Before he's got a chance to make a face due to the bitter taste, he opens another one. If he's got any hope of getting any sleep at all, he's got to force Harry out of his brain.

He just keeps pulling drinks out of the mini bar, and when the finally start to hit him he lays back down. He glances down at the floor. He's left empties everywhere, but he doesn't care. His eyelids start to droop and he lays back down.

He takes a deep breath cause he's feeling a bit sick, but it doesn't matter. He'll be asleep in a matter of moments. And then they'll have a good show and it won't matter.

* * *

4:00pm rolls around and Liam, Louis, Harry and Zayn are standing in a circle near the exit of the hotel. Harry taps his foot in annoyance and looks at his phone. It's 4:01 now – and Niall's never late. In fact, he's usually the first one down there.

He doesn't want to be worried, but of course he is.

“Where the fuck is Niall?” Louis echoes what they're all thinking. He glances over at Harry. “Well?”

“Why would I know?” Harry says with a shrug of his shoulders. Even if he's worried, he's sure as hell not going to show it. “Probably off with some bird.”

“Before a show?” Liam asks, glancing around at the three of them. “That's not like him.”

Paul's standing in the corner along with them, and he sighs. “Shall I go check on him then?”

Liam glances around at the others and they simply shrug. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and it's his first indication that something is wrong. “I'll go,” he says, taking Niall's room key out of Paul's hands. Then he looks over at Harry. “Come with me.”

Harry scoffs. “No.”

Liam narrows his eyes at him. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

Harry just shrugs. “Why would you think that?”

Liam rolls his eyes and sighs. Clearly something's gone on, otherwise the four of them would be up there already. And Harry would probably be leading the pack. “Because you were all over each other at Jay's wedding, and now you can't even look at him. I might be out of the loop, but I'm not stupid. Now come on.” He grabs Harry by the arm and pulls him towards the lift. Louis follows quickly behind them.

“I'll just stay here,” Zayn calls after them.

“Of course you will,” Liam mutters to himself as the three of them walk away. They step into the lift in silence, and Liam presses the button for the floor they're all sharing.

“I don't know what's gone on-” he starts, but he's cut off.

“It doesn't matter,” Harry says, looking up at the numbers above the door.

“Right,” Liam says when they reach their floor. “I suppose it doesn't.”

They walk over to Niall's room and Liam knocks on the door lightly. As expected, there's no answer. He tries again, with more force this time. Still nothing.

“Maybe we should break the door down,” Louis quips, a smirk turning up on his mouth.

“I've got a key,” Liam says as he taps it against the sensor above the door handle. He's not looking to deal with Louis's sass today, even though he knows he's just using it as a way to deal with his worry.

The door opens and Liam steps inside. There's empty bottles and cans everywhere, strewn about the floor. “What the...” Liam says, and he glances over at the bed. Thankfully, Niall's laying there in a heap, his blonde head poking out from under the white duvet.

“Oh, he's just drunk,” Harry says with a shrug, kicking one of the bottles.

Liam glances back and glares at him. Between Harry standing there with an unamused look on his face and Louis just watching the whole scene play out with his arms crossed, it's not hard to tell that something's gone on.

As far as Liam's concerned, whatever that is doesn't matter. Because he sits down on the bed next to Niall and touches his face. “He's burning up,” Liam says.

“He's always hot when he sleeps,” Harry says. He tries to appear nonchalant, but Liam can see right through it. The sharp breath Harry takes in and the way he keeps looking everywhere but at Niall give it away instantly. He's worried, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

“Niall,” Liam says, shaking him gently.

Just just stirs, but he doesn't wake up.

“Niall,” Liam says, a bit harsher this time. “Wake up. We've got a show.”

Niall groans and rolls over to the other side of the bed. “No,” he mutters. “Fuck the band.”

Liam sighs and leans over to try and grab at Niall again, but Niall stirs for a second. Then he hangs his head over the bedside and throws up on the floor.

“He's drunk,” Harry says with a sigh. “Let's just go.”

Liam snaps his head back at Harry, not really believing what he's hearing. Yeah, Niall being blackout drunk hours before a show is a problem. But it's more of a problem because this is so hilariously out of character for him. After a show? Sure. Before? Never.

“You're not going to do anything about this?” Liam asks in disbelief.

Louis takes that opportunity to finally speak. He points at Niall and waves his hand towards him. “I'm not cleaning that up.”

“That's not what I meant,” Liam says, getting up. He walks over to the bathroom, pushing past Louis and Harry, and pours Niall a glass of water. “We're cancelling the show tonight.”

“We can't-” Louis starts.

“Actually we can. I'm calling it, and I'm taking your leadership duties away from you too because you obviously don't give a shit. Look at him!” he motions towards Niall. “This isn't funny and it's not typical.”

“He's fucking up the band.” Louis shrugs his shoulders, but he still stands on his tiptoes to get a glance at Niall.

Liam leans his head back and if his eyes rolled any more, they'd be in the back of his head. “I am so bloody sick of hearing you say that.” He sets down the glass of water on the night table. “We're cancelling the show. Go tell Paul. I'll stay here with him since you lot don't seem to care.”

“Whatever,” Louis says, turning on his feet. “Come on, Harry. Can't go on stage without Blondie, apparently.”

Harry follows behind Louis, but not without stealing a final glance at Niall.

Once the door closes behind the two of them, Liam sits back down on the bed. He glances back down at Niall – his face is white and his hair is matted down and wet. What the hell could have happened to get him this upset?

 


	9. Chapter 9

Harry follows Louis into his hotel room after they talk to Paul. Why not? He figures he hasn't got much else to do. Plus if he's honest, he really doesn't want to be alone. He sits down on Louis’s bed.

Louis sits down on the floor and turns on the TV, then boots up his PlayStation. “Fancy a bit of FIFA?” He asks, passing Harry a controller.

He takes it, even though he's absolute rubbish at FIFA.

Louis navigates his way through the opening screens of the game. “You think Nialler’s alright, then?”

Harry looks at the menu of the game and then down at Louis for a brief second. “Don't care.”

“Oh Harry.” Louis looks up at him, his eyebrows angled with concern. “I know you're angry with him. I am too, but that doesn't mean you're not worried about him.”

Harry knows Louis is right. He is really worried about Niall - but it's not like he's never seen him binge drink himself into a stupor before. Hell, he literally carried Niall out of a club on the last tour because he couldn't walk he was so drunk.

But he's never seen him just drink himself into oblivion on his own before. And that thought - that they're becoming this type group with these types of problems is terrifying.

“I was in love with him,” Harry says slowly, his voice low. He clicks around the screen, trying to select players for his team even though he knows it doesn't matter anyway. “I was falling in love with him, and it was all just a big joke to him.”

“Well, I'm sure that's not true,” Louis says, pressing play to start the game. “He was probably having fun.”

“Everything's just fun to him,” Harry mutters. He fiddles with his controller, even though he doesn't really know what he's doing.

“That's just it, isn't it?” Louis expertly steals the virtual ball from Harry, kicking it towards the goal. “You two showed up at Mum’s wedding, acted like it was absolutely hilarious that you were there together. He probably just thought it was a good bit of fun. Didn't take it seriously.”

“He doesn't take anything seriously.” Harry tosses his controller down beside him. He doesn't care about the game. Louis is winning and it's not doing anything to distract him.

“No, he doesn't. The only thing he takes seriously is the band. And now he's gone and fucked that up, which I reckon he realised and that's why he's so out of it.”

“He's out of it because he drank everything in sight.”

Louis sighs dramatically and looks back at Harry. “Because,” he stresses the word, “he realised he fucked with the band.”

Harry thinks about that for a moment. He supposes it makes sense. After all, he'd gotten more upset with Niall than he intended to the day before, and Louis had gotten on his case as well. 

“Plus it's you, you twit,” Louis continues. Once he's on a roll, it's hard to get him to shut up. “You and Niall are always fucking around about everything else. Can you really blame him for thinking this was the same as every other stupid thing the two of you usually do?”

Harry thinks about that for a moment. Surely everything he and Niall do together isn't a complete laugh. There was that time they went golfing, and went shot for shot on the course and could barely hold their clubs by the end of it. There was also the time they decided to trade solos on stage without telling any of the others. That lasted two songs before Louis threw a bottle of water at them.

He sighs. Maybe Louis is right.

“You know I'm right,” Louis says. He's got a smug look on his face like he knows he's read Harry's mind. “So you banged him a few times. Who gives a shit?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, picking up the controller again. He might as well learn how to play this stupid game, since the rest of the boys are keen on it. “You’re right.”

* * *

Niall wakes up beside Liam.

Niall’s head is pounding, his mouth dry. He peeled his eyes open and felt relief wash over him. It's dark. No offensive sunlight.

Then he feels a panic. His stomach churns and he turns to grab his phone to check what time it is. Because it shouldn't be dark - it usually gets dark while they're doing the show. He rolls over and crashes into someone.

He groans. Every fibre of him is in pain and that didn't help. And who the hell is in his bed anyway? Maybe it's Harry - maybe he got drunk and stumbled over to Harry's room and tried to fix things and somehow succeeded and that's what happened.

But upon closer inspection, it's not Harry. Niall gulps. 

“Liam?” he croaks out.

Liam turns to face him, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Glad to see you're awake,” he mumbles with a yawn. He scratches his chest through his t-shirt and Niall thanks god that he's got clothes on. “Must have fallen asleep myself.”

Niall’s head is spinning. He's got no idea what the fuck happened and the last thing he remembers is drinking and passing out in his room. But that was just so he could attempt to rest before the show. Fuck - the show. 

“What... what time is it?” he stammers. And what the fuck is Liam doing here?

“Hmmm...” Liam reaches down under the comforter, presumably to pull his phone out of his pocket. Niall breathes another sigh of relief. Liam is most definitely fully clothed. Nothing went on here. Not that it would have anyway - he's dating Sophia and he's not really one to mess around.

“It's almost half-ten.” 

Niall’s eyes widen and he hardly even notices the pain that causes. “What?” He gets out, running a hand through his hair. Mistake - every hair that moves is like a pin pricking into his skin. “The show! Liam-”

“Cancelled the show,” Liam says with a shrug.

“W...why?!” 

Liam gives him a look. “Really, Niall?”

Niall shakes his head. Slowly, so he doesn't rattle his painful brain.

“How do you expect to perform when you can barely even move? Jesus. You didn’t show up for our meeting time and then we found you in your room - it's a mess by the way. Bottles everywhere, and you were sick all over the floor...”

Niall swallows, trying to remember that. He doesn't. None of what Liam's saying comes back to him.

“Harry and Louis went to tell Paul and I brought you back here,” Liam finishes. 

“Harry was there?” he asks weakly. This is getting worse by the minute.

“Yes, Harry was there.” Liam sighs. He gets out of the bed and walks to the other side of the room. Grabbing a t-shirt off of one of the chairs, he tosses it at Niall.

Niall pulls it over his head. “Hey, this is mine.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Obviously. I wasn't going to bring you back here without bringing some of your clothes.”

Niall looks at him gratefully. Thank god for Liam. Sweet, responsible Liam. He should really kick Louis off his pedestal and take over as the leader.

“What's going on, then?”

Niall shrugs. He forgot about this part. Where he's going to have to spill it all now. And he'd really rather not. Maybe he shouldn't have drank so much. Should have just dealt with being tired. “Nothin’” he says, laying back down. “Just fuckin’ up the band.” Tears sting his eyes as he remembers Louis saying that to him the day before. He blinks them back, because like hell he’s going to allow himself to cry over that.

“Oh,” Liam says curtly. “Well, then by all means.” He holds out his hand and gestures towards the door. “Go back to your room and drink the mini-bar dry again so we can cancel tomorrow's show as well. I'm sure they've restocked it by now. Honestly, Niall. What were you thinking?”

“Shut up, Liam,” Niall mutters. His head is still giving him grief and he sort of thinks he's on the brink of throwing up again. 

“I will not.” 

“No, you never do,” Niall continues to mumble. Then he dashes off to the bathroom, because if he doesn't he'll get sick in Liam's bed. And he doesn't need a third member of the group hating him.

When he's done he flushes the toilet and stands up slowly. He turns the sink on, splashing some cold water in his face. Then he looks at himself in the mirror. His face is flushed, eyes are sunken. His hair, though a mess, actually looks not bad. He's always been a fan of the messy look. At least he's got that going for him, if nothing else.

He takes a quick sip of water, swishing it around his mouth and promptly spitting it out into the sink. Then he looks back at the open door. He's going to have to hash it out with Liam, so he might as well get it over with.

“Feeling better?” Liam asks him. He's sitting back down on the bed now, a concerned look on his face. Well at least it's better than an angry one. 

Niall shrugs. Not really, but he'll live.

“What happened?” Liam's voice is quieter this time, gentler. 

Niall sits down on the bed beside Liam. “Dunno,” he starts, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong. “Like, me and Harry just went too far after Jay’s wedding, I reckon.” 

Liam just looks at him, egging him on to explain further.

Niall sighs, because he still doesn't really understand what went wrong. He has an idea, obviously, since Harry flipped out at him, but he really doesn't think anything he's done is that bad or different than what Harry should have expected. 

“Just like, fucked around and stuff, you know... we were drunk, slept together after the wedding then just kept sleepin’ together...” he trails off.

“And now he's pissed off at you because...” Liam presses him further.

Niall clasps his hands over his face and falls backwards onto the bed. “Dunno.”

Liam rolls his eyes and just looks down at his friend, waiting. Niall never was one to give out information easily.

Niall pulls two of his fingers apart to look at Liam. “I picked up some girl after one of the shows in Toronto, okay Liam? Christ.”

“While you were dating Harry? Niall-”

“No!” Niall sits up just a little too fast and has to put his head in his hands for a moment to stop the room from spinning. “We weren't dating, he wasn't my boyfriend or anything. We were like... friends with benefits.”

“Uh huh,” Liam says. “So you did what you always do then.”

Niall's starting to get annoyed now. Because even Liam is getting on his case about how he chooses to live his life and it's starting to get stale at this point. “And what is that?” He snaps.

Liam sidesteps this question. Instead he takes another approach to try and get Niall to understand. “Did you and Harry see anyone else when you were shagging?”

“No.” 

“And when you weren't in bed what were you doing?”

Niall shrugs. “I dunno. Watchin’ Netflix. Went to the pub a couple times.”

“Right. So you spent every waking moment together, then.”

“Yeah, but Liam-”

Liam cut him off. “You were in a relationship with him, you twat.”

“No,” Niall starts, looking at Liam firmly. “No, I wasn't. I never said we were, and he knows that I don't do that. I don't have time for relationships. Don't do them. Ever.”

Liam scoffs. “Okay. Except that you do.”

Niall just looks at him with annoyance, so Liam continues. Counting on his fingers, he lists off all of Niall's past flings. “Ali, Amy, Barbara,” he counts up.

Niall feels his mouth go dry.

“You always do this. Spend all your time with one girl... or person, and then back to tour and they're forgotten about.”

“I'm not lookin’ for anything serious,” Niall says, but it's moot. Liam's made his point.

And Liam knows it too. “I know that you don't want to be tied down and that maintaining a relationship while we're on tour is hard. I understand more than most,” he says, holding a hand to his chest.

“Okay, Liam,” Niall says, hoping to stop him before he launches into a sob-story about Sophia. He's heard enough of those in his life.

But Liam continues on. “You should have been more clear about that with Harry. Because I know he knows you, but can't you understand why he might've thought it was different with him? Considering you're friends and he's on the bloody tour as well.”

Niall nods his head. Yeah, that makes sense. And finally it clicks into place. And even if he doesn't like to admit it, he can see where Liam’s coming from. “Yeah, alright, fine.”

“Will you go apologize to him then?”

Niall swallows. His mouth is dry as all hell and he still feels sick to his stomach. Liam's made him feel worse about this whole thing and now all he wants to do is fix it. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “I will.”


	10. Chapter 10

Three hours later, Niall's gone back to his room. He takes a shower and lays in his bed for a while, sipping water and trying to map out just what the hell he's going to say to Harry.

At half-one in the morning, he throws the duvet off of himself and decides he can't put it off any longer. It's late and he's got to fix this before the show the next day. Everything will go back to normal. It has to.

He pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of joggers and heads over to Harry's room. When he gets to the door, he licks his lips and gives it a knock. There's no answer. He's just about to knock again when he can hear Harry's rustling around inside. He leans against the doorframe and waits.

Harry swings the door open. His eyes connect with Niall's for a moment before moving up and down and giving him a once over. “What do you want?” he finally asks.

Niall shifts uncomfortably. “Wanted to talk,” he says, chewing at the inside of his mouth.

“Niall-” Harry starts, but Niall cuts him off.

“Look, I'm really sorry, alright?” Niall says, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one's listening. The floor is completely empty. Not that it would matter anyway – their crew doesn't give a shit about their drama and the other boys already know what's going on.

Harry sighs, but he lets Niall continue.

“I'm really sorry,” he repeats, guilt bubbling up in his chest. He glances around the hallway again. “Can I come in?”

“No,” Harry says shortly, his arms still crossed.

Niall doesn't roll his eyes. He doesn't make an elaborate show of being annoyed. He just stands there and looks up at Harry. “I didn't mean to make you think this was anything more than... what it was...” he mumbles, looking down at his sock feet. Maybe he should have just waited until tomorrow, when things had calmed down a bit. When they'd all had some time to cool off.

He glances up at Harry and he swallows. Harry's expression hasn't changed. It's still dark and focused on him, not amused. It's not a look he likes on Harry, especially when it's focused on him.

“And what was that?” Harry asks him sharply.

Niall swallows again. “I dunno.”

Harry laughs. He actually laughs like he doesn't give a shit at all and it pierces Niall's heart in an uncomfortable way. “You're here to apologize aren't you? So start explaining.”

Niall sighs. If he wasn't feeling so sick on account of the hangover and guilt, he might actually be annoyed with Harry. “I thought we were just messin' around... I didn't think it was anything serious. Neither of us really get into relationships, Harry.”

Harry considers him for a second. “Right,” is all he says.

“So we're cool?” Niall asks hopefully.

Harry keeps looking down at Niall and he draws in a breath. “You also forced us to cancel a show,” he says, instead of offering any sort of forgiveness.

Niall runs a hand through his damp hair. “Yeh, I know.” That might be the worst part about all of this. He and Harry were just fucking around, and if they hurt each other that's one thing. But fucking up the band? That's a big no-no, and Niall sort of can't believe he's the one who's gone and done it.

“The fans are pissed off,” Harry says, giving Niall a serious look.

Niall draws in a breath. He hasn't even taken a look at twitter – but he's sure that Harry's right. It doesn't take much to piss off their fanbase. And when they do, it spreads like wildfire. “Sorry,” he mutters, not knowing what else to say.

Harry shrugs. “Not me you should be apologizing to for that.”

Niall rubs his eyes with his hand, trying to rack his brain for something to say to make everything go back to normal. If he could just go back to that night, he'd have just kept to himself in the limo. He wouldn't have gone so far. He wouldn't have taken their incessant flirting as any sort of sign that Harry wanted to be with him. Because it was all supposed to be just a joke.

“Right,” Niall says finally, because he's got nothing else. “Well I'm still sorry.”

“They'll probably make you pay for the show,” Harry says thoughtfully, putting his finger over his mouth. “Like, we'll probably have to reschedule at some point, and that'll cost money, and we'll have to come back here because we can't stay an extra day... and that'll cost money...”

Niall grits his teeth. He's sure Harry's just laying it on thick to try and make him feel worse than he already does.

“But I'm sure that doesn't matter to you,” Harry continues. “If it starts to get to you too much, you can always drink yourself dead.” He shrugs.

Niall squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. His head's still got a dull ache and his mouth is dry. He can't take much more of this shit. “Lay off, will you? I came here to fuckin' apologize. I get it, Harry. I fuckin' get it.” He keeps his voice low and his eyes fixated on Harry's.

“Apology accepted, then,” Harry says, before stepping back into the room and clutching the door. “Goodnight.”

Niall steps back into the hall just as Harry slams the door. He sighs to himself and glances around. All things considered, that could have been a lot worse. Harry could have screamed at him, he could have neglected to answer the door at all.

He briefly considers going to one of the other's rooms, but he figures it's no use. Liam's probably out for the night at this point and Louis and Zayn are probably drinking or smoking. Since he doesn't particularly enjoy smoking and his stomach hurts at the thought of more drinking, he heads back to his own room.

* * *

Harry stands at the door silently after closing it. He looks back into his room, briefly considering going back to bed. Niall woke him up, after all. He rolls his eyes to no one but himself. Of course Niall couldn't just wait until morning to come by and apologize. Because he never thinks of anyone but himself.

Harry tightens his robe around his waist and opens the door a crack. He looks up and down the hallway. There's no one in sight. He figures Niall must have gone back to his own room. His chest tightens a little bit. Though he's angry, he's still worried about him. He can't not be after seeing him drunkenly passed out in his hotel room.

He steps into the bathroom and digs around his toiletries until he finds a hair elastic. He pulls his hair up on top of his head and secures it. After nodding at himself for a moment he steps into his slippers and steps out of his hotel room.

He heads straight for Louis's. He's not going to get back to sleep now – not after that altercation. But he figures Louis and Zayn are likely still awake. Probably smoking or drinking and not worrying about stupid bullshit.

As expected, Louis opens the door right away when Harry knocks. “Haaaaaarry...” he drawls out with a laugh before opening the door wide and ushering Harry inside. “Come on innnnn...”

Harry laughs too, because if he's going to be a part of this he's not going to roll his eyes or act like they're idiots. He plops himself down in one of the plush loungers and looks over at Louis.

Louis lights up a cigarette and lays down on the bed, flopping down backwards and staring up at the ceiling. Zayn's sitting next to him, already working on his own cigarette. He laughs as Louis's movement rustles the bed.

“Got anything stronger than that, then?” Harry asks.

Louis sits up and gives Harry a look. “Yeah...” he swings his legs over the side of the bed and goes digging through his suitcase. He tosses a baggie containing a lighter and a few joints over to Harry. “If you're gonna keep smoking with us, you're gonna have to start contributing,” he laughs, laying back down on the bed.

Harry grins. Yeah, he can do that just fine. Doesn't really care. He picks out one of the joints and lights it up, taking a long drag. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before slowly blowing it out.

“You make up with Nialler then?” Louis asks with a laugh. He proceeds to smack his two lips together, making a few kissing noises.

Harry snorts and then coughs, after smoking a little more. “Nah.”

Zayn narrows his eyes at Harry. “How is he?”

Harry shrugs. “He's fine. He's sorry. I don't give a shit.”

Zayn coughs slightly, looking unamused. “He should be sorry. Causing us to cancel shows.”

“Like you give a fuck about that,” Louis says, shoving Zayn slightly with his foot. Zayn just laughs, glancing back at Louis. “You're utterly stupid though. Hope you know that, Styles.”

“I'd have to be to stick it in that diseased Irish fuck,” Harry quips with a slight chuckle, rolling the joint between his thumb and forefingers before taking another drag.

Louis bursts out laughing.

Zayn knits his eyebrows. “He's diseased now?”

Louis kicks him again. “It's a joke... Jesus, how baked are you?”

Harry just grins to himself as he lets the toxins take him over. He sinks down further into the chair and stares up at the ceiling. Maybe Louis and Zayn are onto something with this. Because he certainly feels a lot less stress than he had for the past week.

He supposes they sort of have to do this to come down after shows, anyway. It's not like Eleanor and Perrie can be with them on tour all the time. They've got to blow off steam somehow.

“I'm thirsty,” Louis declares, standing up again and rummaging through the mini-bar. “Do you want anything? Oh look, they've got YooHoo! There's only two though. I'm having one... obviously. You two'll have to fight to the death for the other one.”

“I don't want it,” Zayn and Harry say at the same time. Their eyes connect and they burst into a fit of giggles. Louis rolls his eyes and sits back down on the bed, cracking open the can.

Harry stares up at the ceiling again. Maybe he could use a drink, but at the moment he's too stoned to move. His eyes start to droop slightly, and his breathing evens out. He could probably fall asleep here. Normally the musty smoke smell would be bothering him, but today he doesn't find he minds it so much.

Especially now that he's finally feeling relaxed. He doesn't have to worry about Niall being dead or having alcohol poisoning, because clearly he's fine. Doesn't even have to worry about whatever relationship they had, because as far as he's concerned that's dead. Even if Niall begged for it to continue, he doubts he'd have let it. At least he likes to think so.

As it is, it's something of a miracle he was able to keep up the whole facade of being stone-faced when Niall was in his room. Hell, he even resisted letting him in. Probably because he knew that if he had, he'd have just ended up forgiving him and kissing him on his stupid, irresistible mouth.

“HARRY?!” Louis's loud, sharp voice snaps his back to reality. He waves his hand in front of Harry's face and laughs.

“What?”

“Just making sure you're alive. If you're going to sleep, be aware that we're putting on the tunes,” he says, glancing back at Zayn.

Zayn taps at something on his phone, and the familiar sound of The Weeknd's _I Can't Feel My Face_ starts blaring through the tinny speakers.

“Ahhh yeah...” Louis laughs, dancing away from Harry.

Harry sits up slightly and watches the two of them bop to the music. He sighs again, a slight smile on his face. Yeah, he could get used to hanging out with Louis and Zayn.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting today instead of my usual Sunday because I'll be out of town this weekend x

Three days later, they're in New York. New York is always a pain in the ass – it's crowded and they're never able to venture outside their hotel rooms. Hell, they're not even able to venture to the venue because they've got to stay so far away.

Niall sighs, picking at the strings of his guitar as he sits on the window sill. He leans against the glass and looks down. A shiver slips down his spine. They're about thirty floors up and if the glass cracks, he's done for.

He shakes his head, looking back down at his guitar. Those kinds of thoughts find their way into his brain sometimes and he can't stop them. Doesn't really know why. Usually he's just got to distract himself, but it's hard when he's stuck staring at four bloody walls all the time.

He picks out a few chords, playing nothing at first. Then he starts on something from the new album. “ _Spaces between us... keep getting deeper...”_ he sings to no one but himself. “ _It's harder to reach ya... even though I try...”_ his voice is raspy and the lyrics are strained on it.

He strums the melody further, choosing not to sing. It sounds a lot better on guitar. Which he tried to fight for when they were recording it, but he was overruled. It would have been a nice acoustic tune, instead now it's backed with a piano and a hell of a lot of production.

“Bloody spaces,” Niall mutters to himself, still strumming along. _“Spaces between us, hold all our secrets...”_ he sings loudly, the words not lost on him. He knows full well what it's about – Louis and Liam wrote it shortly after the four of them had yet another blow-up at Zayn.

And now? Now he's the one hiding away from the others in his room. He hasn't seen the rest of them since the mess he caused. Not aside from being on stage, anyway. And even the shows are strained. He just goes off on his own and plays the guitar. He hasn't even bothered to interact with the others. Just does his own thing.

He swallows the lump in his throat. Maybe on the next album they'll be writing a song about him. Or maybe Harry will. Because maybe they won't even have a next album. Maybe things are fucked up so badly now that after this tour that'll be it. They'll pay their way out of their contacts and go their separate ways.

The thought freaks Niall out so much that he slips off the ledge and tosses his guitar onto his bed. He walks briskly out of his room and over to Harry's. Because Harry was angry with him, but the two of them can still be friends, right?

Well, he's got to try. Because like hell he's going back to his boring as shit life in Mullingar.

He knocks on the door rapidly. “Harry,” he says loudly.

The door in front of him doesn't open. Instead, the one behind him does and Louis pokes his head out.

“Jesus Christ, Niall. We're in here.”

Niall rolls his eyes. But he steps into Louis's room. He coughs as he enters, because the room is thick with smoke. It's also dark, on account of the blackout blinds being drawn. He looks around. Obviously Zayn's in there. Because the only time he bothers to hang out with any of them is when he's intoxicated. But what he didn't expect was for Harry to be in there too. Much less for Harry to be sitting sideways on one of the loungers – legs slung over the side.

“What can we do for you, lover?” Louis asks, slapping Niall on the back and laughing.

“You are aware we've got a show in six hours,” Niall says, gaping at him. He can't not.

“Oh.” Louis cocks his head to the side, giving Niall a look. “Well, you're one to talk. Or is that why you're here? Because you're too sober to go on stage?”

Niall takes a deep breath, but it's futile because he chokes on the smoky air. He leans over and coughs, hands gripping his knees. “Christ,” he gets out, still gasping for air. “Shut up...” More coughing. How is Harry surviving in here? “Will you?”

Louis shrugs, sitting back down on the bed. “You wanna toke?”

“No.” Niall crosses his arms. If he stands here long enough, it won't matter anyway. He can already feel his lungs burning. “I just came to see what's goin' on.”

Zayn lifts his hand up and waves it around. “Same as always, mate.”

Niall presses his lips together. Right. Except it's not the same as always. Because usually it's just Louis and Zayn smoking up and laughing about everything in the world. Harry's not usually there. And if he is, he's not usually sitting quietly in the back of the room, baked to all hell.

Maybe his attempt to make nice isn't going to work. Maybe he should just give up on being friends with Harry altogether. Though that thought makes his stomach twist in an uncomfortable way, he still finds himself turning to walk out of the room. “Uh huh, guess I'll be going then.”

He barely hears Louis giggling as he closes the door behind him. Instead of going back to his own room, he turns and goes towards Liam's room. He's full well Sophia's in there with him. He doesn't really care at the moment.

Thankfully, Sophia answers the door quickly when he knocks on it. At least he hadn't interrupted them when they were doing anything. “Hi Niall,” she says with a warm smile.

“Hi,” he says, stepping into the room and sitting down on one of the chairs. “What's up, Payno? Fancy a round of FIFA?”

Liam just eyes him. “Not really... what're you doing?”

“What?” Niall asks, trying to look innocent and not like he's having a crisis. “Just wanted to hang out.”

Liam continues looking at him like he's gone a bit mad. Niall figures he's probably not off the mark, but he keeps standing there nonchalantly. “You literally never want to just hang out.” He lowers his voice and glances over at Sophia, who's gone back to sitting on the lounger. “Not when Soph's here.”

Niall shrugs. He knows he's probably disrupted Liam's time with his girlfriend. He doesn't really care all that much. Liam can hang out with Sophia as much as he wants when the band's over, as far as he's concerned. Niall sits down on the bed and starts flipping channels on the telly. “You got FIFA set up in here or what?”

Liam stands behind Sophia, placing his palms on the back of the chair and leaning forward slightly. “Not today.”

Niall gives an exasperated sigh and falls backwards onto the bed. He covers his face in frustration. He doesn't really care if they play a round of FIFA or not, but he sure as hell doesn't want to go back to his room alone.

“What?” Sophia laughs. “How can you be that bored? Don't you have a girl of the week?” she laughs a little bit.

Niall keeps his hands over his hands. “No.”

“Why don't you go play a round of golf?” Liam suggests with a shrug.

“In New York? Liam,” Niall groans, because that's literally the stupidest suggestion that's ever come out of his mouth. He doubts he'll even be able to get past the hotel lobby, much less drive half an hour to a course. “We've also got a show tonight,” he points out.

“What are the other boys doing?” Sophia asks him. God, she's so sweet. She might actually be Niall's favourite out of all the girlfriends Liam's had. Not that he's had many, considering he literally dates every girl he's been with for about a million years before moving on. But Niall still likes Sophia the best and if the circumstances had been different maybe Niall would have snapped her up for himself.

Except he probably would have slept with her once or twice and then kicked her out of his room. Or left her crying outside of a venue. Or slept with her friend the next day. Or one of the other many horrible things he's done in the past.

“I dunno,” Niall mumbles after a few awkward seconds of Liam and Sophia waiting for him to answer. “Smokin' in Tommo's room.”

Sophia just laughs. It's light and airy. It calms Niall down a little bit. “Right. What's Harry up to?”

“Smokin' in Tommo's room,” Niall repeats with annoyance, like it should have been obvious when he answered it the first time. Except that it's not because Harry never does that and there's no reason for Sophia to think that he would.

Other than if Harry fell in love with his best friend, got dumped before it even started and had an emotional crisis, that is. But Sophia doesn't know that.

“Well this has been fun,” Liam sighs, pushing himself off of the chair and walking towards Niall. He pulls Niall off of the bed. “But I think it's time for you to go.”

Niall whines a bit as Liam pulls him away, but he doesn't fight it. It's not like they're doing anything anyway. Might as well just go back to his room and mess around on his guitar until it's time for the show.

* * *

Four hours in a hotel room, three hours backstage at the venue and two hours on stage is enough to drive Niall insane. The boys aren't paying him any attention. Liam's busy with Sophia and Louis, Zayn and Harry are busy... well, they're busy avoiding him. Hating him. Smoking and doing whatever else they do.

Niall's not having any of it, the lack of attention from the other boys. But that's fine, he figures. He can get attention elsewhere. Which is how he ends up in an Irish pub fifteen blocks from the hotel. He's got a stupid paperboy hat covering his signature blonde hair, a New York Jets jumper pulled on over his t-shirt and he's wearing Liam's aviators.

He's still terrified of someone finding him and getting mobbed, but the three pints he's downed are helping with that. He pulls the sunglasses off so he can more easily see in the dim lights. Maybe there's someone here he can take back with him. Maybe he can just do that and forget about Harry and the others. Doesn't need them anyway.

He spots a group of girls sitting at a table a few feet away from him. They're probably the same age as he is – can't be much younger otherwise they wouldn't have got in here. And they're wearing those flower crowns and crop tops and shorter than short cutoffs. So Niall pauses for a second. Maybe they've come from the show?

He finishes off the dregs of his pint and slides off the barstool, sauntering over to them. He taps one of the girls on the shoulder. The brunette one – the kind he always goes for.

She turns around, looking confused for a second. Then recognition washes over her face and her eyes widen. “Oh my god,” she says slowly, looking like she's about to scream at any moment.

Niall holds a finger to his mouth. “Shh,” he says softly, sitting down at their table. “You girls come from the show, then?”

The three of them just stare at him. This is weird, but he tries to power through it. Because it's always like this. Always takes the girls a minute before they warm up and can actually speak to him. “Yeah...” one of them stammers out.

“Right, yeah,” he laughs, picking up one of the drinks on the table and taking a sip. It's some sort of gin and soda concoction. Not bad, but it's a bit too sweet for his liking. “Me too.”

They all laugh like that's the most hilarious thing anyone's ever said. It isn't, but he gets an ego-boost all the same. Not like he needed one considering the way that they're all looking at him. He chews on the inside of his mouth. Maybe he can get them all to come back to his room with him if he plays this correctly.

“You're funny,” the first girl he originally tapped on the shoulder says. She places her hand on is thigh and leans in closer to him. _She's gotta be drunk_ , Niall thinks to himself. _Must be_. Which is fine, because he's sort of drunk too.

“Yeah,” he starts, and then his phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it. “What's your name, love?”

She says something, but he doesn't hear her. Because his phone's buzzing again. “Hold on,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking down at it. Liam. And he's ringing him now, not just texting. That tosser.

“What?” Niall answers irritably, because he knows if he doesn't Liam will just keep calling.

“Where the fuck are you?” Liam's voice comes through the phone. He's pissed off – obviously. Because he's yelling and cussing, which he doesn't usually do. “Paul is going to have your head.”

“Pub,” Niall says simply. “Don't worry I'll be back in time for bus call.”

“Not supposed to just go off-” Liam starts into him, but Niall just hangs up and slips his phone back into his pocket. He doesn't quite care what Liam and Paul think. Not when this girl – shit, what did she say her name was? Not when she's got her hand on his thigh and he can see pretty easily down her top.

“Who was that?” she asks him, leaning her head to the side. Her bottom lip's stuck out in a pout and Niall imagines it around his cock. Fuck, he could really go for that right now. Especially after the couple of days he's had.

“Just Liam, baby,” he says in a low whisper. “He's worried about me. Wants me to go back to the hotel.” He swallows a bit, licking his lips. “Want to go with me? I promise I'll bring you back to your friends in a little bit.” That's a load of rubbish, but it's worked for him before.

And it works for him now. “Yeah,” she says almost too eagerly. “Yeah, yeah.”

He nods quickly at the other two girls before taking this one by the hand and leading her outside. He's so distracted by the way her arse looks in those tight denim shorts that he forgets to put the sunglasses back on to cover his face.

He takes her by the hand and lifts his arm up for her to twirl underneath. She does and laughs as they keep walking. “You're cute,” she says.

“I know,” he laughs. He disgusts even himself, but she just laughs again. Being who he is grants him this special kind of immunity. It doesn't matter what he says or does. Girls will still follow him wherever he goes. Even if it's the shady back entrance of a Fairmont.

She leans in to kiss him, but he backs away. “Can't,” he says softly. Maybe he fucks around a lot, but at least he's smart about it. In his three years of being a celebrity he's been caught making out with someone on camera only twice. “Paps. Wait until we're in the room.”

She nods, still grinning and looking at him. He can probably get her to do anything he wants. He contemplates that as they ride up to the fifteenth floor, and he pulls her off the elevator towards his room.

What he doesn't bank on is running into Harry in the hall. He doesn't know why – obviously that would be a possibility. He standing out there in his housecoat, holding a bucket of ice. His eyes are glazed over but Niall doesn't focus on them at all. Can't. Won't let himself.

“Niall,” Harry says, nodding towards the two of them. “Niall's girlfriend for the night.”

She giggles. “Hi Harry,” she says.

Niall doesn't want to get into it with Harry. He doesn't give a shit what he thinks. Besides, at least he's not self-medicating with Louis and Zayn. All he's doing is having a bit of fun. He pulls the girl towards his room and taps his key against the sensor. “See ya later Harry,” Niall says before disappearing inside. “Make sure you tell Liam I'm back.”

“Yeah,” he hears Harry say before he closes the door. “You definitely are.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Harry's lost count of how many girls Niall's trotted into their numerous hotels over the course of the tour. It must be at least one per city they've been in. Maybe one per show they've done. He tries not to pay attention to it. He really does.

But it's difficult when Niall does right in front of all their faces. He's always off and texting his latest conquest. Or making out with them in the hallway when they're coming back from wherever he's gone to pick her up. Or kissing her goodbye in the morning when they're about to leave and acting like he's definitely going to call her again.

Harry scoffs. Not bloody likely. He knows that all too well. Maybe he should start standing outside Niall's room offering words of warning.

“What's with you?” Louis snaps him back to reality. They're sitting in his hotel room as usual. Maybe it's El Paso. Harry's not totally sure. He's washed the name of today's city off of his hand already. Wherever it is, at least the room is nice. There's a hot tub and everything. Not that Harry's using it. Louis isn't either. In fact the only one of them who's interested in it is Zayn – and he's sitting in it with the jets on, smoking a cigarette and staring out the window.

Harry briefly wonders if Niall's got a hot tub in his room too. And if he's using it with whatever tramp is with him that night. Then he feels sort of bad for thinking of Niall's girl for the night as a tramp, because he was basically the same as her. He's just aware of it now.

“It's just...” he pauses, knowing Louis is going to get annoyed with him. But he can't not ask. “How many girls do you think Niall's slept with this tour?” he asks, his words slow and calculated.

Louis groans, covering his face with his hands. “Harry-” he starts in on him, but he's interrupted by Zayn.

“Dunno,” Zayn says, taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke slowly out of his lungs before continuing. “Reckon it's been one every day. Lucky bastard.”

“Yes,” Louis says, glancing over at Zayn. “One every day. And none of them are you,” he says sharply. “So do we really need to go on about this again?” he shakes his head and gets up to dig through the mini bar. “All tour it's been 'Lads, how many girls do you think Niall's slept with? Do you think he'll ever shag me again?'” he makes a show of sniffling and wiping his eyes. Then he smacks Harry in the chest with the back of his hand before cracking open a beer.

Harry rolls his eyes. It's not like that. Not at all. He's just...

Well, he doesn't know what he is. But it's not like _that._

“I'm just curious.” He tries to laugh it off. It comes off weak.

“Sure you are,” Louis replies. He takes a long chug of his beer. Long enough that it gets sort of awkward since he makes eye contact with Harry the entire time. “I'm tired of it,” he says once he finishes the beer and crushes the can in his hand. He tosses it over to the bin in the corner, but he misses and it lands on the floor.

Harry sighs, but he gets up and picks up the can and puts it in the bin himself. “Me too,” he mutters.

“Then stop fucking talking about it,” Louis mutters, but Harry still hears him. “It's been weeks,” he stresses a little bit louder this time. “Just go do what he does. Go fuck someone else.”

“They do say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Zayn says. He leans over the side of the hot tub, crossing his arms and resting his head on them.

Harry just keeps shaking his head. He digs through the mini-bar himself until he finds something good. Which is a mini bottle of Jack Daniels and a can of Coke. He can do with this. What he can't do with is just sleeping with someone random. He's never really done that – not much, anyway. And he's not about to start just because that's what Niall's doing.

“Maybe,” he says finally, just to placate the two of them.

Louis sighs loudly. “The two of you sicken me,” he says.

“Oi!” Zayn calls out to him, an irritated look on his face.

“Not _you,”_ Louis clarifies, rolling his eyes. “Him and Niall. You know, if Niall wasn't such a fuckboy Harry would be over there with him and not over here whining about him all the time.”

Harry just shrugs. Yeah, maybe. But there's not much that can be done about that. He tried. It didn't work.

Louis just keeps looking at Harry. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. He's got a quizzical look on his face. Like he's deep in thought.

“What?” Harry asks him with annoyance. Maybe he's going to have to start hanging out with Liam and Sophia. Because Louis is starting to get on his nerves.

“Nothing,” Louis says with a smirk. He blows out a puff of smoke and quickly takes another drag. “Nothing at all.”

* * *

Niall wakes up the next morning before his alarm. He rolls over, looking at the mess of brown curls poking out from underneath the covers beside him. He sighs to himself, cuddling up to her. He doesn't even remember her name.

All that he knows is that it's not Harry. Something that's been burning in his mind this entire fucking tour. Sure, it's fun going out each night. Scoping out his girl for the evening and watching her face when she realises what's happening. But even that is losing its charm. It's just a false start.

“Good morning,” she mumbles softly. Her voice is high and sweet. Not rough and low.

This is stupid, he chastises himself. This is his own choice. The whole bloody point is that he doesn't want to be in a relationship. It never works anyway – not with him being gone all the time.

But Harry's literally right across the hall. And Niall sees him every morning when they're getting ready to leave. So of course he makes a point to always put on extra PDA around him. So that Harry can see... what exactly?

Niall doesn't know. But he knows that he's hardly spoken to Harry in the last two months or however long they've been on the road for. They put their stage persona on just fine, but off of it?

Christ, they're hardly even friends anymore.

“Niall?” the girl asks him softly, rolling over to face him. “Are you staying here today?”

“Um,” he starts, racking his brain and trying to come up with their schedule. “No,” he says finally, attempting to look really broken up about it. He puts a little pout on his face and everything. “We're on our way to Vegas today. I'll text you, love,” he promises, but it's empty. He always does that and he's not sure why. It's easier, he supposes, for them to think that this is the beginning of something real than for him to admit what this actually is.

Maybe he doesn't want to admit it to himself. Because that'd be admitting the person that he's become. This popstar who fucks around and doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself. Not someone with an ability to have a real relationship with anyone.

“Vegas?” she giggles, kissing him on the mouth. He also hates that – the girls always do that because they probably know deep down this is their last chance. But he's sure he tastes awful first thing in the morning. If he was with the same person all the time they would know not to do that. They wouldn't have to. “Gonna win the jackpot?”

He rolls her onto her back and climbs on top of her. “I've already got you.” He truly disgusts himself.

But she laughs at his stupid comment all the same and kisses him. And he supposes he can go for a quickie before he's got to get going. Not like he's got anything better to do.

* * *

Harry's got his arms crossed over his chest and he can't help but watch as Niall stands there with some stupid girl. She's got brunette hair flowing halfway down her back, stupid cutoff jean shorts with the pockets poking out the ends and this awful fringy black top.

They're standing in a circle in the hotel lobby, listening as Paul reads off their plans for the day. Harry's only half paying attention. Because does Niall really need to do this every single fucking morning?

“I've gotta get going, love,” he hears Niall tell her. He can't help but roll his eyes as a pang of jealously hits him. He's probably only calling her “love,” because he doesn't remember her name. Surely he doesn't love her. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word.

“But you'll text, right?” she asks.

Harry has to fight with everything he's got to keep from laughing out loud.

“'Course,” Niall says before leaning in to kiss her again. A smile lingers on his face as he closes his eyes. Harry takes a deep breath. He hates Niall's stupid thin mouth and his stupid pink lips and his stupid soft eyelashes.

He's staring at the two of them now, and he doesn't even care. He catches Niall's eyes when he finally pulls away from the girl. He gives him a bit of a nod, trying to tell him that his friend's got to go now. Because they've got work to do and this is hilariously inappropriate.

She walks away from him slowly and Niall joins their circle. He doesn't stand beside Harry – he never does these days. Instead he stands in between Louis and Liam. He shuffles a bit, trying to look relaxed. But Harry knows him better than that. He knows when Niall's hands are stuffed in his pockets and he's scuffing his feet on the ground that he's uncomfortable.

“I trust you heard all of that?” Paul asks, staring at Niall point-blank.

“Yup,” Niall replies, nodding his head. Harry's still watching him. Even if Niall didn't hear all of it, it wouldn't matter. He's probably got the tour schedule and plans memorized by heart.

“Good,” Paul says, folding up the papers in his hand. “Let's get on the buses, then. Long day ahead of us over to Vegas.”

There's a couple of cheers from other people standing in the circle with them. None of them come from Harry or Niall. Still, they all break away from the circle.

Before they can completely leave each other to their own devices, Louis steps back and puts a hand on Harry and Niall's shoulders. “Vegas, lads!” he laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Gonna be mad fun!”

He pulls the two of them together before walking away with a laugh. Harry glances down at Niall for a moment. Niall shrugs his shoulders like he's got no idea what Louis is on about. And he probably doesn't. It was just a weird comment – which isn't unlike Louis. Especially when Vegas is involved. Which might as well be The Promised Land according to Louis.

Harry and Niall just glance at each other awkwardly before walking off in separate directions. Harry shakes his head – fucking Louis. Whatever he's up to, it can't be good.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a little late with this one x

_My room. 5 minutes. Come alone._

Niall rolls his eyes at the text message he's got from Louis once he gets out of the shower after the show. What in the hell could this be about? It's probably got something to do with Louis's weird comments that morning.

Niall really doesn't want to go clubbing or whatever Louis has up his sleeve. But he still finds himself pulling on a pair of jeans and a button-up top. Because Louis is probably going to force him into something anyway. He doesn't bother doing anything with his hair, though. Just leaves it sitting flat on top of his head as he grabs his wallet and heads over to Louis's room.

He knocks on the door and Louis answers it in record time. He must have been standing there waiting. “Ah, I've never known you to be late, Young Niall. But you're the last one here.”

Niall glances around when he steps inside. Louis is there, obviously. Liam's sitting on the bed, Zayn's beside him and Harry's sitting on the couch.

“What?” Niall starts.

“We're going out,” Louis says with a grin. “The five of us. No girlfriends,” he glances over at Liam, who rolls his eyes. “No one night stands,” he smacks Niall in the chest. “And no drama,” he looks over at Harry and then points to Niall.

Niall just laughs it off. “There's no drama.”

“Right, that's what I said.” Louis shrugs. “The point is, this tour's been a right mess and if we want to keep the fucking band together this is what's going to happen. We're going to go out and we're going to get pissed and it's going to be lit.”

“Lit?” Liam asks, raising his eyebrows.

“It's what the cool kids are saying these days, Payno,” Louis quips, giving Liam a look. “Not that you would know.”

“I can't drink,” Harry says from the other side of the room, raising his hand. “Not twenty-one.”

“He's got a point,” Niall says, nodding his head.

“While I'm absolutely delighted that the two of you finally agree on something,” Louis says sarcastically, rolling his eyes and glancing in between the two of them. “You bloody well know that won't be a problem.”

Niall sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It's not that he doesn't want to go out with his four bandmates. He does. He really does. But not like this. Not when it's Louis literally forcing all of them into it. Not when Harry keeps glaring at him because he used to love him. Apparently. He actually just wants the tour to be over, which isn't something he ever thought he'd feel.

“So let's get going then.” Louis motions for all of them to get up. “Mark'll be behind us, obviously. So we're not changing any plans now. First, we're going to Paris to get drinks. Then we're going to Marquee.”

“What a surprise,” Zayn mutters as they all walk out the door. Niall can't help but laugh at that, and he thinks he hears Liam laugh too. Because Louis is literally obsessed with Marquee. And those stupid Eiffel Tower drinks from Paris.

But he figures he better get on board, because like it or not, when Louis sets his mind to something it's happening.

* * *

Harry's stomach churns when they step away from the bar outside of Paris and Louis hands him a giant Eiffel Tower full of some kind of orange slush. The amount of sugar and rum he's about to ingest is enough to make him sick before he even starts in on it.

“Bottoms up, lads,” Louis laughs, taking a sip from his straw. The five of them are standing in a circle, Mark chilling out a few feet behind them. “We're in Vegas, you could at least look like you're having fun.”

“We're here against our own free will,” Liam points out, but he still sips on his own drink.

“Oh you are not, you twat. If you didn't want to be here you would have just ignored my text. Now come on, let's get to Marquee.”

“It's literally a ten minute walk away,” Niall says, eyeing his drink. “We'll never finish these by the time we get there.”

“I've got faith in you lot.” Louis just shrugs, pushing past all of them and leading the way to the crosswalk a few feet away. “Now come on.”

Reluctantly, they follow him. Harry keeps behind the rest of the group. He sips on his drink and watches as Niall runs up and grabs onto Louis's shoulders from behind, jumping up slightly. Zayn's right behind the two of them, smoking his second cigarette since they started this outing and holding onto his drink.

“Chin up, mate,” Liam says, slinging his arm around Harry's shoulders and taking a long sip of his own drink. “It's not that bad, is it?”

Harry shrugs. It actually is that bad. He's spent the better part of this leg of the tour avoiding Niall and he's not exactly keen on hanging around with him now.

But he supposes he hasn't really got a choice since he's out here with the group. There's no leaving now. So he just keeps sipping at his awful drink, forcing it down as they get to Marquee.  
  


The four of them hang back as Louis goes in to talk to the bouncer. It's noticeably quiet – Zayn's still smoking, Liam's playing around on his phone, Niall's doing the same. Harry's just watching him. He can't take his eyes off of him – this is why he tries his best to stay away from him! But the flip of Niall's bleach-blonde hair and the way his soft eyelashes curl up is too much for him to resist.

Niall looks up at one point, but Harry doesn't look away. They make eye contact for a brief second before Niall goes back to whatever he's doing. Harry forces down another sip of his drink before giving up on it and tossing what's left in a nearby bin.

“Let's go lads, they've got a VIP area for us,” Louis says, reappearing after a few minutes. He nods his head towards the back entrance of the club and the others follow him, with Mark still trailing behind.

Once they're inside, Harry flops down on one of the plush couches. The music is pulsing and there are lights flashing every which way. He rubs his eyes and sighs. Probably should have taken off when Louis was gone off talking to the staff. That was his chance to escape and now he's stuck here.

Though when he looks up, Louis is gone again. Harry glances around. Niall and Liam are still on their phones and now Zayn's on his as well. Maybe if he's quick he can get out and make it back to the hotel.

He stands up but just as he's about to step out of the VIP area and go down the stairs to the exit, Louis shows up again. God dammit. He's standing there with a bottle of Grey Goose in one hand and pinching together five shot glasses in the other. “Where do you think you're going?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “Sit down.” He places the bottle and the glasses down on the black marble table sitting in the middle of the seating area.

Harry sighs, but he does as Louis says and sits back down on the couch. There's a full cushion of space between himself and Niall, but not for long.

“Move,” Louis says, motioning with his hand for Harry to slide over.

Harry looks over at Niall and looks back up at Louis. He hears Niall laugh too, which makes him all the more angry. Because now it's quite clear what Louis is up to.

“Move,” Louis says again, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

Harry glances over at Niall, who's chewing on his fingernail. He rolls his eyes, but he slides over all the same. His leg brushes up against Niall's but he does his best to ignore that.

“Now then,” Louis says, leaning over to the table and pouring vodka into each of the shot glasses on the table. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself before standing up and running off again.

Harry's getting more irritated by the second. He's sitting right beside Niall and their legs are touching and every time Niall moves his arm it brushes against Harry's. He doesn't slide away because Louis is already on his way back and maybe, _maybe_ a tiny part of him is actually enjoying being next to him again.

But that part is small and completely overshadowed by how annoyed he is.

“There we go,” Louis says once he returns. He's got a small bowl filled with lemon wedges which he sets down on the table before sitting down again. He grabs one and squeezes it out over top of the five glasses. Then he passes one glass to each of the boys. “Cheers, lads!”

Harry knocks back the shot and bites at his tongue to avoid making a face. Niall on the other hand can't handle vodka and squeezes his eyes together with his mouth hanging open. He looks over at Harry with a laugh.

Harry just looks over at Louis, who's fixing five more shots. Jesus, he's really not going to take his time with that bottle, is he?

“Alright boys,” Louis says, motioning towards the shots on the table. This time, he doesn't pass them around. “We're going to play a game. I'm going to ask a question, and based on the answer we'll decide who gets the next drink.”

“That's stupid,” Harry says, but he's ignored. Fucking Louis.

Louis holds his index finger over his mouth. “First... I want to know who's had the best hookup on the tour. Go.”

Harry sighs and leans back. He's literally stuck in between the two people he hates the most at the moment, and there's no getting away. So he slumps down and stays silent.

“Well, I'm out,” Liam laughs, obviously trying to keep things light.

“Hmmm,” Louis hums, with a bit of a laugh. “What would Sophia say to that?”

“She'd say that she's not a hookup and that you're a wanker,” Liam replies without missing a beat.

“Cheeky.” Louis grins, glancing around at the rest of them. “I think we all know the answer to this question though.” He leans over, putting his hands on his knees and glancing at Niall. “You. You brought two girls back to your room in... where was it? Atlanta?”

Niall just laughs and chews at his fingernail. He's probably blushing too, but Harry can't really tell since it's so dark in the club and he's trying not to look at him and all.

“Or...” Louis scratches his head for a moment, trying to make it look like he's really thinking hard about this. Even though he's not because Harry's sure he's likely had this entire bloody scenario planned out for the entire day. “If Niall's had the best hookup, but Harry's hooked up with him, then I'd say he's probably the winner.”

“It could go either way,” Zayn says with a shrug.

“You're right.” Louis nods. “You're absolutely right. So they should both drink. Go on, lads.”

Harry gives Louis the biggest death glare he's capable of, but then he grabs a drink off of the table. Because he might as well get this over with. He glances over at Niall.

“Cheers, mate,” Niall offers, holding out his own shot.

Harry reluctantly clinks his glass with Niall's and downs the shot. The vodka burns his throat and the lemon makes his eyes water, but he just leans over and places the empty glass back on the table.

“Now then,” Louis continues, looking over at the boys. “I want to know who gets the most screams on stage every night.”

“It's you,” Harry says, but Liam cuts him off.

“Oh, come on, Harry, it is not.” He laughs, glancing around at the others. “The girls absolutely adore you.”

“That they do.” Louis nods, narrowing his eyes over at Harry. “But...”

“But what?” Harry asks through gritted teeth.

“They certainly do go mad for Niall touching himself,” Louis laughs, leaning over and picking up two more shots. He hands one to Niall and one to Harry. “I suppose you should just both drink.”

“You're just trying to get the two of us drunk,” Harry snaps at him. He glances over at Niall, but Niall doesn't say anything – he just knocks back his shot.

“Harold, how dare you?” Louis asks innocently, clasping a hand to his chest. “I don't make the rules.”

“Actually you did,” Harry mutters. Still, he takes the shot and shoves the glass into Louis's hands.

“Looks like we're running out,” Louis muses, leaning over and filling up the four empty glasses on the table. “Now then, what should we ask next?”

“How about, 'who's the most insufferable prat in the band?'” Harry asks, leaning over and picking up a shot. It spills over the side a bit as he thrusts it over to Louis.

“Sure.” Louis shrugs, still leaning over. “But I don't think the answer to that question is me. Especially if you're the one who's asking,” he laughs, passing the shot over to Niall.

For the first time since this game started, Niall actually speaks up. “Come on, Louis,” he groans. “That's not fair.”

“You're right,” Louis says, passing a shot to Harry. “It's subjective. You probably think it's Harry. So I suppose he should drink too.” Louis shrugs and leans back against the white leather of the couch, like there's nothing he can do to control this turn of events.

Harry glances over at Niall. Niall just shrugs his shoulders, his blue eyes twinkling far more than they should be in this situation. Harry swallows. He might as well drink. He tosses his head back and lets the alcohol run down his throat. At least with each one of these that goes down it gets a little easier.

“This game is stupid,” Zayn says, slouched down in his own chair across from them. “It's just the two of them drinking.” He extends his hand towards Harry and Niall.

“Shhh,” Liam warns him, nodding towards Niall and Harry. Harry's not really sure what he's nodding at, specifically. He just knows that his head is starting to spin. Because that's what three vodka shots in ten minutes will do to you. Especially after what felt like a half a bottle of rum in that stupid Eiffel Tower drink.

Oh, maybe it's Niall's head against his shoulder. When did that happen? Because he didn't notice it before. But his head's there and his hair's brushing against Harry's cheek and it smells like that creamy Dove shampoo he always uses.

Fuck's sake, he's got to stop drinking.

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, holding his hands up. “How about... the two youngest members in the band?”

“That's not even fair!” Harry shouts, but the words run out of his mouth in a jumble. And no one pays attention to him anyway.

“Age-wise or maturity-wise?” Liam asks with a laugh.

“Whatever. It's still the two of them,” Louis says, patting Harry on the shoulder and pointing towards the shots on the table. “Drink up, lads.”

“Better do as he says,” Niall giggles, leaning over and grabbing a shot off the table, knocking another one over in the process.

“Like you need any motivation to drink,” Harry says, picking up his own drink. But it's not filled with as much contempt as it would have been half an hour again. Instead he laughs, giving Niall a cheeky smirk before picking up a shot of his own. He downs it in one go and places it back on the table. It's starting to get a bit more blurry in here – but maybe that's just on account of the lights. Certainly it's not because of the half a bottle of vodka he's just drank on his own.

Niall giggles leaning over and placing his empty glass back on the table. When he does, he has trouble sitting back up and he falls over onto Harry's legs. He laughs, his head against Harry's chest.

“That was literally so easy,” Louis mutters. Harry hears him, but it hardly registers. He's too focused on Niall to care about whatever Louis has to say. “Oh!” Louis stands up, swaying his hips a little. “I love this song.”

Harry cocks his head to the side, trying to hear the beat of the music and figure out what it is. He can't, and he glances down at Niall. Niall's still leaning against Harry's chest, but he looks up and presses his lips together. He widens his eyes, as if that's going to help him hear what song it is. Harry swallows when he looks down at Niall's bright blue eyes – they're not even clouded over like they usually are when he's drunk. They're just bright and wide and right there in front of him.

Before he can think about what he's doing, he leans down to kiss Niall. He presses his mouth against Niall's and it's like the stress of the last six weeks just melt away when Niall kisses him back.

“Oi!” he can faintly hear Louis over the buzzing in his brain. He opens his eyes fast enough to see Louis pulling at Niall's shoulders, away from Harry's face. “We're in a VIP area, we're not completely in private!”

Harry just collapses into a fit of giggles and Niall's right there with him. The two of them topple over with laughter like this is the most hilarious thing that's ever happened. Because Louis was the one trying to push them together and when they finally do kiss he flips out over it? Irony at it's finest, Harry thinks. Then he wonders if that's the actual definition of irony. He's too drunk to figure it out.

He looks up, Louis is still dancing along to the music. Liam's actually gotten up too and he's bopping along with him. Zayn's disinterested, looking at his phone and tapping his foot.

Harry's breathing hard. He never wanted to come to the club in the first place, and now this is the last place he wants to be. He glances back down at Niall, who's still leaning his head against Harry's shoulder, swaying along to the music as much as he can.

“Let's go back to the hotel,” Harry says in a low voice. His dignity be damned – that was out the window as soon as he started drinking those fucking shots.

“Hmmm...” Niall hums, as if he's got to think about it. “I dunno, Harry...” he says in a sing-song voice. “Dunno if it's a good idea...”

“No?” Harry asks, sliding his hand up Niall's thigh. Fuck, he's so drunk and the room is spinning and Niall's little games aren't helping. “You don't want me?”

Niall just laughs with a bright smile, but his face changes the second the side of Harry's finger brushes against the bulge in his jeans. “Ugh,” he leans his head back, moaning slightly. “More of that.”

“Nope,” Louis says, pulling the two of them apart again before Harry can do anything about it. “In. Public.” He glares at the two of them point blank. “Go back to the hotel. The three of us are heading down to the dance floor anyway.”

Niall looks up at Harry, standing up from the couch. He stumbles a bit, but laughs and quickly regains his composure. He wipes his palms off on the front of his jeans and extends his hand out to Harry.

Harry looks up at Niall standing there, one of his hands outstretched and the other one dipped into his pocket. He sighs to himself, his heart beating fast and his head in a daze. If this was Louis's plan (and it most certainly was) it's working too well. All he can think about is getting Niall back to the hotel and getting tangled up in bed with him. The next morning or the consequences don't even cross his mind.

He grabs Niall's hand and stands up, crashing into him slightly before pulling away. “Let's go.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Niall pushes Harry down onto his bed once they get back to the hotel. He gulps to himself – he's been waiting for this for two fucking months. Two months since he fucked things up with Harry and two months since he decided that fucking random girls was more important than fucking his best friend or boyfriend or whatever Harry was.

He's still not sure, but it's not like it matters right now. His head is spinning and he's not really sure if it's because of Harry or because Louis decided to get the two of them drunk so they'd kick their pride out the window.

Probably both. Surely it's both, because he's dizzy and the room is spinning. Harry's laying on his back on the plush king-sized bed. Niall's standing at the edge in between Harry's legs – he looks down at him for a moment before leaning down to kiss him. He doesn't stay like that long, because Harry's pulls at his shirt and pulls Niall down on top of him.

Niall moans as he sinks into Harry. He sloppily kisses Harry's mouth, gripping at Harry's sides and rocking against him while they're both still fully clothed. He doesn't care – his cock is hard and aching and straining against his boxers and jeans. He can feel Harry's erection against his own and he moves quicker, not able to get enough of it. How he's gone without this for so long, he's really got no idea.

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry says, breaking their kiss. “Slow down.”

“Can't,” Niall replies, starting to grind against Harry again and kissing his neck. “So good.”

Harry reaches in between the two of them and presses a hand to Niall's chest. Niall pulls away from Harry, trying to catch his breath. This is probably good because he's already fucking shaking and he really might come in his underwear if this goes on any longer.

Harry fumbles with Niall's shirt for a minute. He unbuttons the top two buttons before getting stuck and frustrated with the third one. “Why didn't you just wear a t-shirt?” he groans.

“Wanted to look nice for ya,” Niall laughs, cheekily. Not entirely true, but not entirely a lie either. “Just rip it off.”

Harry chuckles, but he still pulls at the middle of Niall's shirt. The remaining line of buttons pop open and a couple of them go flying. Neither of them really notice as Niall arches his back and shrugs his shirt off.

Niall leans down, sliding his hands up Harry's shirt and bunching it up around Harry's neck.

“You're shit at this,” Harry says, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

“Got you into my bed, didn't I?” Niall smirks, leaning down to kiss Harry again. Their bare skin connects and Niall can hear Harry moan into their kiss.

Harry reaches over and places his hand on the small of Niall's back. He presses down and lifts his leg up, trying to get Niall to grind against him again. Niall does, slower this time. He holds onto Harry tight as he moves. He curls his toes as they kiss and move together, trying to distract himself from the heat pooling in his abdomen. Fuck, this is really going to be over before it starts.

“Niall,” Harry whispers, pulling away from him. He pushes at Niall's shoulders, trying to get him to move down. “Your mouth is perfect.”

Niall smiles at the compliment, leaning down to kiss Harry again. But Harry just pushes at his shoulders again. “I want it on my cock,” he says.

Yeah, okay. This is probably a good idea. Niall licks his lips and shuffles downwards. He unbuttons Harry's jeans and pulls them down, along with his black boxer-briefs. Harry wiggles his feet to get his clothes off completely and Niall just laughs, moving in closer to Harry's crotch.

He contemplates making Harry beg him for it – placing little kisses on his thigh and such. But instead he just goes for it, taking Harry's whole length in his mouth. Harry arches his back and groans. Yeah, good. Niall's quite pleased with himself, Harry obviously wasn't expecting him to do that.

“Niall,” Harry breathes out as Niall bobs up and down on his prick. He drags his tongue up along the underside of it, breathing out and letting the warm air hit Harry's wet prick. Harry's moaning loudly from his spot on the bed and even though he's not touching Niall, it still turns him on even more. He shuffles his legs a bit, trying to get some friction against himself. It doesn't really do anything for him, which he begrudgingly accepts as he keeps sucking on Harry. He needs to cool himself off a bit anyway.

Harry's hands find their way into Niall's hair and his fingernails dig into his scalp. Niall swirls his tongue around the tip, licking up the pre-come that's leaking out. Harry groans again, thrusting his hips upwards and forcing his cock further into Niall's mouth. Niall can take it easily, even though Harry's basically fucking his face now.

Niall pops off of Harry, pulling away and wiping his mouth with his hand. Enough of this, he figures. He unbuttons his own jeans and shuffles out of them and his boxes, tossing them into the corner of the room. He walks over to his suitcase, ignoring the urge to wrap his hand around his dick. Instead, he pulls out a half-empty bottle of lube and a condom and makes his way back over to the bed.

“Am I fucking you, then?” Harry asks breathlessly.

“You better,” Niall says shortly, climbing back onto the bed with Harry. He opens the bottle and grabs Harry's hand, slicking two fingers up with lube before laying back down.

Harry slides his hand in between Niall's legs and slowly guides his fingers inside of him. Niall draws in a sharp breath. Maybe he thought he was ready, but he's really not because he gulps from the dull pain.

“You alright?” Harry asks, nipping at his neck.

“Y-yeah,” Niall gets out. He'll get used to it again, anyway. “Keep going.”

Harry moves his two fingers in and out of him, kissing his neck and jaw bone. Niall just lays there, breathing heavily and keeping his eyes closed. No fucking way he's going to let this stop just because hasn't fucked another guy in a while. Maybe he should have done that instead of just sticking to girls while he was fucking around on tour.

His heart pangs with guilt when he thinks about that. He opens his eyes at looks at Harry. Harry's eyebrows are knitted with concentration, his hair's a mess and his shoulders are rolling with his hand movements.

Niall moans as the pain starts to fade away. Nope, he never should have fucked around on tour. Because he could have been doing this the whole time. And it's a whole lot better than sleeping with someone random who he doesn't know and certainly doesn't love.

“Ready, pet?” Harry whispers softly.

“What?” Niall asks. He's starting to sober up now, and he's sure Harry's never called him that before. He rather likes it.

“Are you ready for me?” Harry repeats.

Niall nods. “Yeah.”

Harry pulls away from Niall. He rolls onto his back and grabs the condom. He rips the package open with his teeth and Niall shivers thinking about what's about to happen next. He watches Harry roll the condom onto himself and the two of them lock eyes.

“Come on,” Harry says, motioning for Niall to climb on top of him.

Niall does. He spreads his legs over Harry and lowers himself down onto him. He goes slowly, almost painfully slowly but it's fine. Harry waits until Niall's taken his entire shaft. Niall leans down, hovering over Harry for a second before moving his hips up and sliding back down.

“Good?” Harry asks, looking up at Niall.

Niall swallows as the pleasure starts to build up again. “Yeh.”

Harry grips a hand onto Niall's waist and starts thrusting upwards into him. Niall moans, throwing his head back. He grips onto Harry's shoulders as he rides him. The soft pillow-top mattress makes no noise as they move together, Harry's hips pushing upwards and Niall pressing down onto him.

Harry's mouth hangs open as Niall moves against him. He moves quicker, rolling his hips and grinding against Harry.

“Niall,” Harry moans. Thank god that they're in a nice hotel with thick walls, because he keeps crying out Niall's name over and over again. “Niall, Niall, Ni-” his name catches in Harry's throat and Niall can tell that he's painfully close.

Niall reaches down and pulls at his cock as he keeps moving against Harry. His hand movements are in sync with their thrusts and he bites at the inside of his cheek as he comes, making a mess all over Harry's stomach. Harry thrusts into him two more times before he stops, his eyes closed tight and his hand digging into Niall's side.

“Fuck,” Niall breathes out, rolling off of Harry and laying down beside him. He's soaking wet with his and Harry's sweat. His hair's cool and wet, matted down against the pillow but he doesn't give a shit in his post-sex haze.

Harry reaches up, touching the side of Niall's face softly, his fingertips tracing his jawline. “Niall...” he draws out slowly.

Niall just blinks, searching Harry's face. Maybe Harry regrets this. Maybe Harry's going to tell him that this was a mistake. That he's got to leave. That they were just drunk. That they're still a little bit drunk. Niall's mind races through a thousand possibilities where the only outcome is Harry leaving.

“I love you,” Harry says instead of doing any of those things.

Niall breathes a sigh of relief. For the first time, hearing that phrase doesn't send him running for the door. Instead, it comforts him. He breathes again, all of the alcohol and stress from the last two months catching up with him. Suddenly, he's knackered. Ready to go to sleep.

“Love you too,” he finds himself saying softly, the words coming out easily.

Harry shuffles over to him and kisses him on the mouth. He reaches down and pulls the condom off and rolls over to toss it in the bin. He also picks up his t-shirt off the floor, using it to mop up his stomach.

Niall just watches him. He can't look away – he never wants to again.

“Goodnight, Niall,” Harry says, kissing him again before reaching up and turning out the lights.

“Night,” Niall says with a yawn before closing his eyes.

* * *

Harry wakes up the next morning. He glances around the room. He doesn't need to remember where he is – he knows quite well. He might've been drunk, but he wasn't that drunk. Certainly not by the time he went to sleep anyway.

He glances over at Niall. He's got one leg underneath the comforter and one leg sticking out. He smiles to himself. Maybe he was angry with Niall before. And maybe he still is a little bit, if he's being honest. But it's certainly hard to be when he's laying there like that, his blonde hair a mess and his chest rising and falling with every breath.

Harry glances over at the clock. 6:50am. They've got to be up and downstairs in twenty-five minutes to get on the bus and get to their next tour date. Good thing he's up – they didn't think to set any alarm the night before. Obviously.

It sort of pains him to wake Niall up, he's sleeping so soundly. But if he doesn't they're going to be woken up by Paul banging on their door anyway, so he might as well do it himself. He reaches over, touching Niall gently on the shoulder. “Niall,” he says softly.

Niall stirs, licking his lips and blinking a couple of times before opening his eyes. He turns his head to look at Harry.

“Morning,” Harry says.

“Morning,” Niall repeats.

Harry swallows slowly. Though things seemed to be fine the night before, he'd be remiss to think that it wouldn't be at least a bit awkward the morning after. It's not like things can just blink and go back to how they were before. Whatever that was.

“We had sex,” Niall says bluntly, and Harry knows that's because it's the only way Niall knows how to get it out in the open.

“Yeah.”

“You said you loved me,” Niall continues. His expression is neutral and Harry can't figure it out. Things like this remind him that even though he knows Niall well, this is new territory for both of them. Because this side of Niall is still pretty new to him. But he wants to know him – desperately he wants to know all of him. The way that no one else does. Because Niall hardly ever lets anyone in. And Harry gets that now.

“You said it back,” Harry says.

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?” Harry can't help but ask him. Even if he's afraid of the answer. Because he doesn't think he can go back to tip-toeing around Niall for the rest of the tour. He doesn't think that he can get over him again. Even though he never really did.

Niall's expression softens. His eyes arch downwards and he almost looks sad. “Of course I did.”

Harry takes a deep breath. He glances over at the clock again. 6:56. They've really got to get a move on, but he just can't yet. He can't leave this room without knowing what's going on. Without having some kind of confirmation that their relationship lacked before. “Niall...” he starts slowly, rubbing his hand along Niall's shoulder. “I can't... I can't get into this with you again.”

Niall furrows his eyebrows. “Get into what?”

Harry sighs. Usually he's more articulate than this. But whenever Niall's involved he can't ever think straight. “I can't keep doing this halfway.”

“Halfway,” Niall repeats, sitting up and scratching his head. “Harry,” he starts, looking over at him. “That's not... no.”

Harry sits up as well, looking straight at Niall. His comments don't make any sense, as usual. Niall can't ever give a straight answer about anything. He can feel himself starting to get annoyed with Niall again – because obviously he's just going to spiral into some drivel about how he can't be tied down and he's not meant to be in a relationship.

But those thoughts stop when Niall leans over and kisses him. “I want this,” Niall clarifies, pulling away and looking straight into Harry's eyes. “I'm sorry it took so long. I want this,” he says again, still locking his eyes with Harry's. “I love you.”

Harry smiles, leaning over and kissing him again. Jesus, he can't not. Not when Niall's finally in the same place that he is and feeling the same things that he is. He's about to push Niall down onto his back, but there's a knock at the door.

  
“NIALL! UP!” Paul's voice booms through the hallway before he moves onto the next door.

Harry groans, leaning his head on Niall's shoulder. For once can't they just have a moment alone?

But Niall just laughs and pats Harry on the back before getting up. “Come on, Styles,” he says, suddenly full of energy. Harry really doesn't know how he does it. “Let's go. Show tonight!” Niall pumps his first in the air as he hops off to the bathroom.

Harry runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He smiles to himself. It's early, and he's tired, and he doesn't want to spend the next six hours on a bus, but this might be the best he's ever felt.

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Miami!” Harry shouts at the top of his lungs. “Thanks so much for having us!”

Niall looks over at him and grins. The fans scream their faces off, but he hardly hears them. The last show of their most tumultuous tour yet – for him anyway. He started this leg of it with Harry and thank god he's ending it Harry, because otherwise he doesn't know what he'd be doing.

Maybe they wouldn't be touring next year if him and Harry hadn't figured it out. Maybe that'd be the end of the band. But thankfully it's not. Thankfully they've figured it out and they're speaking again (and a lot more than that) because the two of them being strained really wasn't doing them any favours.

The pyrotechnics go off and they're rushed off the stage and back to the car to go back to the hotel. They're still in Miami for the night before getting on a plane to go back to the UK. Then there's promo and a new album and they're going to do it all over again.

They're crammed into the tiny black car with tinted windows to ensure they make it back to the hotel safely. And usually Niall hates it. This is literally the worst part. But he leans his head against Harry's shoulder.

“You alright, pet?” Harry asks him softly, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Niall nods. Yeah, with Harry by his side he's definitely okay.

“Jesus, get a room,” Louis says, kicking Niall in the shin. “You're insufferable.”

Niall just laughs it off, not taking his head off Harry's shoulder. He knows Louis is just kidding around. It's either this or him reminding them that they wouldn't have a relationship if not for him. Maybe he's right. Either way, they're together now and that all that matters.

* * *

It's always been something of a tradition, the five of them getting together at the end of a tour to drink and shoot the shit. Even on the X Factor tour when they didn't have the luxury of separate rooms, they still did it. And on the last two tours it's always been in Louis's room.

This time around is no different. Niall pins Harry to the wall and kisses him just before they're on their way out the door. “Niall...” Harry whines pushing him away slightly, even though he'd really rather not. Plus they've already gone for a round in the shower. Not that he can't go again. “The others are waiting...”

Niall just laughs and pulls away from him, but not before smacking another quick kiss on Harry's lips. “Yeah, alright.”

Harry grips Niall's hand as they step outside the room and walk the few paces over to Louis's. He can't help but look down at Niall as they do. Once they're in front of Louis's door, Harry knocks on it.

Louis answers it right away. “About time,” he snaps, leading them into the room. Liam's sitting in one of the upholstered chairs sipping on a drink. Louis has quite a selection sitting on a table. It's clear he sent someone to get something other than what's in the mini-bar. “You're late.”

Niall and Harry step into the room. Harry walks over to the table and starts fixing himself a drink. Jack and Coke for himself. Gin and tonic for his boyfriend.

Niall sits down on the bed. “Where's Zayn?” he asks, and Harry glances around. Zayn's always so quiet and not present that Harry didn't even notice he isn't there.

“Not coming,” Louis says with a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “Got Paul to get him an early flight out. I reckon he's wheels up by now.”

Harry hands Niall his drink but Niall doesn't even thank him. Instead he gapes at Louis. “But... but we always celebrate the last night!”

Louis shrugs and flops down on the other bed. He crawls over to his bedside table where his own drink is and takes a long sip. “Whatever. Just the four of us this time.”

Niall still looks confused and irritated. He glances up at Harry before taking a sip of his drink, his eyebrows still knitted. Harry reaches up and gives him a rub on the back before sipping at his Jack & Coke. It's unfortunate that Zayn decided to leave early, but Harry gets it. He's ready for a break as well.

“Well, cheers boys,” Liam says, standing up and walking over to the rest of them. He holds out his drink and the others reach up to clink all of their glasses together. “Another one in the bag.”

“A good one as well, yeah?” Niall asks, finishing up his drink and standing up to make another. “Stadiums.”

“Yeah,” Louis laughs. He takes another sip of his drink then sets it back down on the table before picking up his pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out and lights up before tossing the pack over to Liam. “Mad.”

It's silent for a minute. Niall sits back down beside Harry, sipping at his drink thoughtfully. The end of tour's always like it. Bittersweet. They're tired and ready to go home, but they're also never quite that ready to go home.

Harry can't help but glance over at Niall. At least this time when they go home, they're going home together. No more missing him or texting him two days into their time off asking him what's up and if they can get together for a round of golf. He shakes his head as he takes another sip of his drink. He was in love with Niall for so long – it's just that now he knows it.

“What?” Liam asks, cutting into Harry's thoughts. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” Harry insists, realizing he's been caught with a smirk on his lips.

“Probably thinking about that one,” Louis says. He breathes out a puff of smoke and points at Niall with his cigarette. He rolls over from his stomach onto his back and stares at the ceiling, taking another drag. “And it's all thanks to me.”

“Sure Lou,” Harry says, finishing up his drink. He contemplates making another one, but then figures he doesn't need it. He's content to just sit here with the three of them.

Louis just stay laying on his back, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. “You can deny it all you want, but if it wasn't for you two coming together at my mother's wedding – and I mean that literally, by the way – and then me forcing you two back together you'd still be flirting without getting off. I expect to be a part of your wedding vows.”

Harry glances down at Niall and rolls his eyes. Niall just laughs loudly, like he always does when he's uncomfortable but doesn't want to show it.

“Don't worry, we'll be rid of him after tomorrow,” Liam says with a laugh.

“But not for long!” Louis sings out, waving his arms in front of his face. He rolls over and presses his finished cigarettes butt into the ashtray on his table. “Promo in a month.”

That brings a real smile back to Niall's face. And Harry has to smile as well. Promo is always gruelling. It's worse than touring – at least when they're touring they're on their own turf playing to their own crowds. With promo they've always got to be 100% on. They can't say or do anything wrong or it's going to be a headline for weeks. But with Niall at his side, Harry's not dreading it so much this time around.

* * *

Niall stretches once he sets his suitcases down in Harry's front entrance. The flight home after the tour is always longer than the flight there, it seems. But he's not as tired as he usually is.

“You do have your own house, don't you?” Harry asks with a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow.

Niall shrugs. Yeah, of course he does. And it's not too far from Harry's either. Just a walk over Putney Bridge. But he doesn't care about that. Even though they've spent the last six months in each other's pockets, there's no where he'd rather be than with Harry.

“Yeh,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “You know I hate to sleep alone, though.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he laughs all the same as he heads into the kitchen. He pulls out a bottle of water and tosses one to Niall as well. “It was quite a tour,” Harry muses as he takes a sip.

Niall nods along as he twists the cap off of his own bottle. Yeah, it was. Hell, he never expected to leave London single and come back with a boyfriend. But when he watches Harry he really can't imagine it any other way.

He looks around at Harry's newly redone house. The kitchen looks brand new, with a wooden breakfast bar without so much as a scratch. Black bar-stools sit around it, making it the perfect place for people to hang out and have a laugh. Maybe he should think about getting his own house redone. He's always thought the old look of it was part of its charm, but maybe its time for an update.

Harry walks over to Niall and wraps him in a tight hug while he's standing there in though. Niall wraps his arms back around Harry and deeply breathes in his scent. God, out of all the things he loves about Harry, that pear shampoo is one of his favourites.

“What's that for?” Niall laughs when Harry pulls away.

“Nothing,” Harry says, planting a quick peck on Niall's lips. “I just love you.”

Niall can't help but blush when Harry talks to him like that. He rolls his head to the side. “Really?”

“Of course.” He runs his hand through Niall's fluffy hair. “And we're home from tour for a bit. So I reckon that means you and I can be together for at least a little while.”

Niall giggles, even if he does feel a bit guilty in the pit of his stomach. But at least they're at a place where they can joke about it now, since it worked out and all. He wraps his arms around Harry again, kissing him softly. “Hmmm...” he muses, rubbing his nose against Harry's. “That'll do,” he says with a smile, before tilting his head to kiss Harry again. “That'll do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading x
> 
> [tumblr post](http://sakabelle.tumblr.com/post/160404455447)
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://sakabelle.tumblr.com) if you like! 
> 
> there's also a sequel called 'shiny happy people' [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10528818)


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